


Nightshade and Juniper

by ms_katonic



Series: Glory to the Forsworn [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Dark Comedy, F/M, Fantasy, Forsworn, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:09:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 196,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_katonic/pseuds/ms_katonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nightshade, signature plant of the Dark Brotherhood. Juniper, synonymous with the Reach. When a Listener in trouble is forced to consort with the King in Rags to survive, she finds herself drawn to the Forsworn cause despite Madanach's best efforts to get on her nerves. Conventional alchemy gives nothing from mixing nightshade with juniper, but nothing about a Dragonborn is ever conventional...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You may be wondering where I vanished off to. Well, worry no more, I'm back. I read a prompt on the Skyrim Kink Meme requesting Forsworn lore and backstory, and seeing as Cicero Dragonborn had much of that, including stuff I never got to use, I volunteered. This is the result. At time of writing, it is not done, but as someone did guess it was me, I'm now sharing with the rest of you. Enjoy!
> 
> Spoilers for Forsworn Conspiracy/Cidhna Mine quests, the main and Dark Brotherhood questlines, the civil war and potentially anything that takes place in the Reach.
> 
> One use of strong language in this opening chapter, also apologies in advance to any Stormcloak sympathisers. I can make Madanach sexy, but I can't make him BFFs with Ulfric.

This was degrading. Humiliating. BEYOND humiliating. She was the daughter of a wealthy merchant from the Summerset Isles. Archmage of the College of Winterhold! Listener of the Dark Brotherhood! (Not that that meant a lot what with Astrid still maintaining an iron grip on Falkreath Sanctuary.) The damn Dragonborn! They had no right to treat her like this. She wasn't some vagrant or vagabond, she was a lady, couldn't they see? She'd tried to tell that horrible Orc guard that this had all been a terrible misunderstanding, but to no avail. She could have sworn the woman had looked pleased at the idea of a high and mighty Altmer brought low. 

“Lady, huh?” the Orc had growled. “You'll fit right in in Cidhna then, they've even got a king down there. Open her up, boys!”

The gates had opened, and dressed only in a set of prison rags, robbed of her usual finery, Liriel the Dragonborn had been cast into Cidhna Mine. For a string of murders she'd not even carried out, which considering the number of murders she had committed without ever being caught, was deeply unfair and unjust in her mind.

She wasn't going to cry. She was _not_ going to cry! She was the Dragonborn, the heir of Ysmir, the Dragon of the North and she was not going to cry. They might have taken everything else, but she still had her pride... and she still had her magic. She would get out of here or die trying. How, she wasn't exactly sure, not yet. But she could start with the man whose agents had got her dragged into this mess in the first place. 

“Hello,” she said, walking up to a grey-haired, yellow-eyed prisoner sitting by the fire. “I'm looking for the King in Rags.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Liriel hated this place. Just as she thought her humiliation was complete, she'd find another degradation heaped on her. Finding out there were no private toilet facilities, you just found a quiet corner and got on with it. All the men glancing at her constantly and leering at her, especially that Orc, Borkul. When he'd demanded a toll and looked her up and down like a piece of meat, for a horrible moment she'd thought he'd want sexual services. 

He'd grinned and just asked for a shiv instead. So off she'd gone to find one, to talk to Grisvar the Unlucky. He'd said yes but the price was Skooma. She'd had to pretend to be the worst kind of drug addict to get some. But it had worked and now she was on her way to see the King in Rags himself.

She had no idea what she was going to say to him. Demand he get her out of here this instant? Threaten to kill him? Both? She wasn't sure, but she trusted the words would come. They usually did. 

She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. A small-ish room carved out of the dirt, a bed, a proper bed and not a stone one either! A chest, a table and chair, a few barrels – not the height of opulence but a luxury compared to the rest of the prison. 

Madanach himself was dressed in the same prison rags she was, once-blonde hair turned silver, grimy skin but considerably cleaner than the rest of the prisoners. Presumably someone brought a bath in for him every once in a while. Liriel could have wept at the realisation that that was something likely denied to everyone else. A bath every so often and a proper bed, dear Mara, was this what her life had come to, that the thought of either was bringing tears to her eyes? 

Focus, Liriel, focus, she told herself. She needed to confront Madanach, not be throwing herself at his feet and begging to borrow his bed for a few hours.

Right now, he was busy sitting at his desk, writing a letter of some sort. More killing orders for his Forsworn underlings? She didn't know and didn't care. She just wanted out of here.

“What is it, I told Borkul no visitors,” Madanach growled, glancing up at her. He looked at her, paused, laid down his quill and sat back in his chair, turning to face her properly, not even bothering to hide the fact that his eyes were roaming quite freely over her body. Liriel shuddered, fighting the urge to be sick. She was not some piece of meat to be lusted after by this degenerate bandit! 

“Well now. You're rather more attractive than most of the visitors I get down here. Is this a social call? Or did you have a more specific purpose in mind?” The tone of voice left no doubt as to what he was hoping that specific purpose might be. Liriel bit her tongue, digging her nails into her palms. While she was of course quite capable of roasting him alive, that wouldn't get her out of this vermin-pit any faster.

“I want my freedom,” she hissed. “I'm in here for murders your people carried out, on your orders, and damned if I'm staying in this skeever-den any longer than I have to! So you're going to get me out of here or I'll – I'll...”

“Or you'll what?” Madanach asked, his voice a low, rasping growl more like a beast's than a human's. “Kill me? Melt my face off? Turn me to ice and shatter me with lightning? Oh, you can do all those things, pretty Elf. You could kill me right now if you wanted. But that won't change the fact that as far as the world above is concerned, you're the one who killed all those people. Margret, Eltrys, Thonar Silver-Blood's wife and those humble Reachman servants who were trying to protect her, including sweet old Nana Ildene who never hurt anyone.”

“Nana Ildene raised Betrid's corpse from the dead and turned her against her own husband!” Liriel cried, losing her temper. She was quite sure she'd never hated anyone quite so much in her life. And Madanach had the audacity to sit there and laugh.

“So I heard!” he laughed, getting to his feet. “Wish I'd been there to see it.” The laughter faded as he approached, circling behind her and managing to look imposing despite being two inches shorter than her. “I know you, Liriel,” he murmured into her ear, trailing a finger along the point of her ear and down through her long red hair. “I've heard all about you. All sorts of... rumours. I'm prepared to believe you're a powerful mage. I'm prepared to believe you can swing a sword if you have to. You might even be Archmage, although I'm surprised the Archmage was slumming it out here. I'm not sure about this Dragonborn nonsense though, and I'm not even going to comment on... darker stories. But I do know that up there right now, the Empire-loving Dragonborn of legend is being talked of as nothing more than a common murderer.”

“I am no common murderer, you lowlife piece of trash,” Liriel hissed, itching to have at him and be done with it. No one spoke to her like this, no one!

“An uncommon one, then,” Madanach laughed, backing off. “Whatever, they threw you in here with us anyway. You're not the Dragonborn in here, Liriel. Not the Archmage, not a Tribune in the Imperial Legion, not anything. You're a beast like the rest of us, a slave, the boot of the Nord tramping on your face forever. And ever. And. Ever. Kill me, escape on your own, your reputation is still in tatters. But if you understood us, understood what we're truly about... perhaps I could help you.”

Liriel understood very little of this, not why this infuriating human was taunting her like this, nor why she was letting him and had yet to burn him from the inside out. Patience, she told herself. Just hear him out. 

“What do you want?” she said, gritting her teeth. Madanach returned to his seat, leaning back in it like any Jarl on his throne.

“Well now, pretty Elf. I want you to get out there and listen for me. Think you can do that?”

Well, how very ironic. She was tempted to tell him she only listened for the Night Mother, but given that thanks to Astrid, she'd yet to follow the one order the Night Mother had ever given her, it seemed a bit pointless. So she just nodded.

“Good. There's a prisoner called Braig, apart from me he's been here the longest. Go and talk to him, tell him I sent you. Ask him how he ended up here. Listen to him. Void it, go and talk to them all, they've all got tales to tell, all the Reachmen anyway. When you're done, come back here and then perhaps we can talk.” Without even bothering to dismiss her, he turned back to whatever he was writing.

“That – that's it?” Liriel asked, confused. “You just want me to talk to the other prisoners?”

“That's what I said, didn't I?” Madanach said, still not looking up. 

“Right, right,” said Liriel faintly. “I'll, er, do that then.” Madanach didn't even bother responding and Liriel felt the urge to fling a lightning bolt at his back. But it wouldn't get her anywhere. Arrogant son-of-a-skeever. When she got out of here – and she would – she'd show him who was boss. He could lord it in Cidhna Mine all he liked, but when it came to it, he was stuck in here while she had the whole of Skyrim to play in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What felt like hours later, and she must have spoken to every Reachman in the place, asking for their stories. She'd started with Braig, and worked her way through, and every time, although the details differed, the story stayed the same. Nords murdering one man's entire family. Nords making another destitute by taking his livelihood. Nords killing Braig's little girl in front of him and arresting him anyway. Nords, always the Nords, from Ulfric Stormcloak to the Silver-Bloods to their cronies on the street. Not all of them, of course, Liriel knew full well that one faction was not an entire people – she'd been called Thalmor often enough to know that. But she knew what injustice looked like, and this was it.

She'd never really thought about who the Forsworn were before. She'd fought them, of course – finding the Sybil of Dibella and taking Sky Haven Temple for the Blades had brought her into contact with them, but she'd thought of them as little more than savages. Fanatical, deadly, magic-wielding savages, of course, but savages nonetheless. 

They still were, of course. But they were savage for a reason. It wasn't that they didn't know any better. They were vengeful because they'd been forced to be. They were lethal because they chose to be. They'd reacted to humiliation and injustice by taking to the hills, retreating to the shadows, striking out of nowhere in a rain of blood, haunting the Nords' nightmares even as the same Nords tried to oppress them.

They were the killers that Astrid's Dark Brotherhood wished they were. Liriel couldn't help but admire that. So it was in a rather different frame of mind that Liriel returned to Madanach.

“I did what you said,” she told him. “I Listened.”

“Good, good,” said Madanach, glancing up, actually looking curious. “What did you learn?”

“I learned that Ulfric Stormcloak really is a cunt,” Liriel said, mouth running away before her brain could process what she'd just said and stop it. She put her hand to her mouth, horrified. This place was getting to her. It was all getting to her, the lack of sleep, the dirt, the lack of privacy, the hunger, all the tales of woe she'd just had to sit through. All of it completely eroding her self-control and turning her into the worst kind of slum-dweller.

Madanach looked at her dead in the eye for all of two seconds before bursting out laughing, throwing his head back as if what she'd just said was hilarious. It was some minutes before he dried his eyes and pulled himself together.

“He is that,” Madanach agreed, finally smiling. “All right, girl, I'll help you. I just need one thing from you.”

“Something else??” Liriel cried. She'd just spent the last hour listening to stories of outrage and misery and watching grown men cry in front of her. She was tired, drained, worn out, she just needed sleep in her nice, warm bed at Breezehome or the Sanctuary or anywhere really. “What more do you want from me?”

Madanach's eyes flicked over her and for a moment, she thought he was going to ask for sex and that really did bring tears to her eyes. Altmer were not prey to such base urges, they were monogamous creatures who saved themselves for the purity of finding their one true love. Liriel hadn't found hers yet but she was very certain it wasn't this barbarian. 

Mercifully, it was something else entirely he wanted.

“There's a prisoner here, a Nord by the name of Grisvar the Unlucky. You might know him already. He's a thief and a snitch, and I think he's a Silver-Blood plant. He's outlived what minor usefulness he did have. Take care of him and we'll be on our – I'm sorry, am I keeping you up?”

Liriel tried to close her mouth in an attempt to stop the yawn. To no avail. Madanach was glaring, eyebrows knotting together as he frowned at her. 

“I'm sorry,” she said guiltily. “I – do you know what time it is? I think it was late when they threw me in here and I don't know when I last slept...”

Madanach said nothing, his expression not changing in the slightest. 

“I wouldn't know, I lost track of time years ago. I sleep when I'm tired, eat when I'm hungry.”

Hungry. Mara, she was so hungry, she'd not eaten in forever either. And thirsty too, so very thirsty... She could feel tears pricking at her eyeballs again, and dammit she was not going to cry in front of this... this animal!

“I'm not tired right now,” said Madanach, watching her, the frown gone but she really couldn't tell what he was thinking. “Here, take my bed. Grisvar's not going anywhere, get some sleep first.”

“I – what?” she whispered, sure her sleep-deprived brain was making her hear things. Madanach growled, got up and flung back the covers on his bed.

“Take. The. Bed,” he said firmly. Liriel didn't argue. She crawled into it, feeling soft furs against her skin and she almost cried as her body relaxed. Madanach drew the covers over her, returning to his chair.

“What about you?” she whispered, watching him, silhouetted in the candlelight. He just shrugged.

“Don't worry about me. I'm a Forsworn, I can cope with a little discomfort. It's not the worst to have ever happened to me.”

Liriel wondered what the worst to have happened was, but she didn't ask. Before she could frame a coherent sentence, her eyes closed and sleep claimed her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

When she woke up, it was dark, the candles having burned down or been put out. For a second she thought herself at home, but then she smelt someone else on the blankets, a musky, male, human scent, and in a flash her eyes were open, heart pounding as she remembered where she was. 

One magelight later and at least she could see. The room seemed unchanged from last night, Madanach still sitting at his desk – no, not sitting. Slumped over it, head resting on folded arms, and for a moment, Liriel's heart almost stopped. _Sithis, no, please don't have taken him, he's my ticket out of here!_ Not to mention that no one would believe she'd not killed him.

She leaned over, touching his cheek and breathed a sigh of relief as she felt warm skin and saw him breathing. Just tired then. Damn the man, why'd he not woken her? She was an elf, she could cope without a bit of sleep. He was an old man and needed rest. Well, she assumed so anyway. She wasn't terribly good at telling how old humans were, and she still struggled sometimes with working out what a human age meant in Altmer terms. 

However, despite being a skilled assassin and not-terribly-ethical mage who'd trafficked with more than one Daedra in her time, she always used to pray to Mara as a girl, and she still had a lot of affection for the goddess of love and compassion. Returning to the bed, she picked the pillow up and gently lifted Madanach's head. He stirred, muttering something under his breath, but did not wake as she placed the pillow on the desk and laid his head back on it. Then she took one of the furs off the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders. It wasn't that chilly down here, but it got damp. She couldn't have him get cold. 

“Sleep well,” she whispered, slipping away. Time to prove Grisvar the Unlucky aptly named.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she came back, mage armour still clinging to her and Grisvar's smoking remains lying on the ground while several nervous Forsworn prisoners poked at them, Madanach was stirring, blinking under the bright light of a candlelight spell.

“Did you leave this pillow here?” he demanded. “And the blanket?”

She should really have known better than to expect gratitude from the ill-mannered brute. 

“Who else was in here?” Liriel said, not bothering with a shred of courtesy any more. If he wasn't going to show any, damned if she was. 

He was frowning again. “Why'd you do that?” he snapped. Liriel just shrugged.

“Because you'd fallen asleep and didn't look any too comfortable, I was awake and didn't need them. No other reason although I'm beginning to wish I hadn't bothered. I killed Grisvar. Can we go now?” Or would there be some other thing she needed to do, some other hoop to jump through? Was he going to keep the promise of freedom hanging over her forever while he turned her into some sort of pet? 

It was a clear sign this place was getting to her that the prospect of Madanach taking care of her almost made it all bearable. 

“Impatient, aren't we?” he smirked at her. “All right, Dragonborn, let's get you out of here. Old gods forbid your dainty little hands go another day without their moisturising lotions.”

Liriel's dainty little hands were going to be dual-casting Thunderbolt right at his heart if he didn't shut up soon, but fortunately the taste of freedom had a way of calming her.

“Lead the way,” was all she said as she followed him out.

~~~~~~~~~~

Later on, Liriel would remember very little of the escape itself, just running, recasting her armour, hoping her magicka wouldn't run out as she followed Madanach and the others through a section of Nchuand-Zel, the dwarven ruins under Markarth, fighting off spiders and Dwemer spheres, but mercifully no Falmer. Finally, the tunnel came to an end, huge Dwemer doors leading out into the city itself. Liriel came to a halt before them. Freedom lay beyond those doors. Freedom – except in these rags, it would be short-lived at best. She'd have to run for it, using her wits and her magic and not stopping until she was far from the city, and here was hoping she didn't run into a dragon. Sky Haven Temple wasn't that far – she didn't relish having to explain to Delphine just exactly how she'd ended up like this, but at least there'd be a bath and a bed and she could change into some Blades armour. She was no heavy armour specialist, but it would keep her safe enough until she got to Whiterun.

She was surprised then to see a young Forsworn woman step out of the shadows, and even more surprised to have her pack flung at her feet.

“You'd be Liriel, I take it,” the young woman said, amused. “Not many Altmer end up in Cidhna Mine.”

“Who are you?” Liriel asked, utterly confused. “And how did you know I'd be here?”

“I've got my sources,” the woman said cryptically. “You should get changed, you know. All your things should be in there. Had to slit a few throats to get them, but it's all there. One set of what looks like the robes of the Archmage of Winterhold, one shiny glowing golden sword, about forty assorted soul gems, an entire apothecary's worth of potions, approximately half of which might actually be useful, an nice Elven bow and various arrows including some fancy glass ones, a coin purse with enough in it to buy this city, a keyring with about forty keys on it, twenty scrolls, what looks just like Azura's Star, a nice looking amulet I almost kept for myself, an ebony dagger that bears a suspicious resemblance to a very valuable one stolen from the Hags a few weeks back but I'm sure that's just a coincidence, a complete set of the Shrouded Armour and Shrouded Robes of the Dark Brotherhood -” At this the woman paused and just looked Liriel dead in the eye for a few seconds, clearly considering this rather carefully. “Assorted jewellery, ingots and gemstones, and I don't even want to know how you got hold of the Ring of Namira,” she finally concluded. “In a way, you're fortunate you're carrying so much crap around. The guards couldn't be arsed to catalogue it and left it all in a big heap until they could be bothered to look at it.”

Liriel didn't care. She was already dragging the pack behind a pillar, gleefully rooting through it, hunting for her beloved Shrouds. On it went, her black and red armour that fitted her like a glove and with it, she felt the indignities of the last few days fading. She was the Night Mother's Listener, a true-born daughter of Sithis, she had her magic, she had her Shrouds, she had Dawnbreaker, the Gauldur Amulet, Namira's Ring, Nettlebane, everything, back with her again. Time to do some killing. She put on everything except her cowl, preferring to keep her face free for just a little longer, and emerged to see Madanach had caught up with her. He'd exchanged his prison rags for a full set of Forsworn armour, missing only the stag headdress which was still in his hand – and he had his arms around the Forsworn girl.

Well, she'd known he was a fearsome old reprobate, but even she'd thought he had standards. That girl was young enough to be his daughter, surely?

“Kaie, cariad, it's good to see you,” he murmured, holding her in a bear hug. Kaie was squeezing him back, then they let each other go, both smiling. Liriel hadn't realised the King in Rags actually could smile. He looked years younger when he did.

“I'm always visiting you, Da,” said Kaie, laughing softly. “But it's good to see you dressed like you should be at last. What kept you?”

Madanach just shrugged. “Never seemed like the right time. But Keirine sent word that the stars were right and that if I didn't leave now, I never would. So here I am. Missed me?”

“Yes,” Kaie laughed, hugging him again. “Yes, absolutely, I've missed my fearless battlemage father, striking fear into the hearts of the Nords. The fight's been boring without you!”

“You were nine years old when they took me, you've never fought at my side,” said Madanach softly, stroking the girl's face, looking indescribably sad. “I'm sorry, macreena.”

“We'll make up for it now,” Kaie promised, eyes burning with pride. She was his daughter. The King in Rags had a daughter. Liriel had had no idea, although she supposed Madanach wouldn't want his family in harm's way if he could help it. Were there any other kids around? Another daughter? A son? Did that mean there was a wife out there somewhere? Liriel didn't know, but she was curious. She stepped out into the light, wondering what happened now. Maybe she should just take her leave, but once she did, would that be it? Back to being picked on by every Forsworn in sight? She'd fight them if she had to – but part of her didn't want to now. She felt sorry for them. Their cause was near hopeless, but their willingness to pursue it was admirable and their bloodlust in doing so was something she could respect.

Kaie and Madanach glanced up, Kaie looking her over and smirking, while Madanach... He took one look at her and his eyes widened.

“So it is true,” he murmured. “You're one of the Brotherhood.”

“It's not something I like to brag about,” Liriel admitted. Not to anyone she intended to keep alive anyway.

“No, I don't suppose it is,” Madanach laughed. “Don't worry, I don't mind. Be a bit hypocritical for me to judge, wouldn't it now? Kaie, this is the one I told you about. Liriel, Queen of Dragons.”

Liriel could feel herself blushing and if it wasn't bad form to slap someone in front of their children, she might just have done it. 

“I'm not the queen of the dragons!” she protested. “I've just killed a few of them.”

“Did you hear that, daughter,” Madanach said, turning back to Kaie. “Just killed a few dragons, she says, like it's no big deal, people go out and routinely kill the things all the time. Not that I've had the chance to see one yet, but I'm imagining they're not exactly small, are they?”

“Great big scaly things with teeth the size of an Orc's thigh-bone that fly, breathe fire and hate all humanity,” said Kaie, summing up dragons rather well in Liriel's view. “Difficult to kill, and while I can't swear to it, I'm sure we've killed them, left the body, come back a day or so later and the damn thing's gone. Then surprise, surprise, there's another dragon looking very similar flying around. Da, I think the damn things are immortal.”

“They are,” Liriel said quietly. “But I can kill them permanently. If... if you're ever having dragon trouble, send word to me. I'll help you sort it out for good.”

“Thank you, Mighty Queen of Dragons, should the combined might of the Forsworn no longer avail us, we'll be sure to petition for you to rise from your feather bed and your bath of warm bear's milk and give us a hand,” Madanach growled. “Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a city to break out of.”

“Wait, that's it?” Liriel demanded, flexing her fingers, feeling the magicka pooling in her hands just ready to unleash fire and death the next time he called her Mighty Queen of Dragons in that tone of voice. “No goodbye or anything? Not even a thank you for helping you break out?”

“I could have got out of this mine any time I felt like it, Dragon-Queen,” Madanach said, glaring back at her with his hands on his hips. “You were the one petitioning me for freedom, remember? Still, I suppose I owe you something for your trouble. Seeing as it's sort of my fault you ended up in there in the first place. Kaie, have you got the special armour there?”

Kaie handed over a set of Forsworn armour, this set gleaming with enchantments. “Here you go. But why – Da! This is Ma's old armour! From... from before. You're giving it to her, why?”

“Your mother's dead, Kaie,” said Madanach softly. “And even before she died – she'd not needed this for a long time, you know that. I'm thinking the Dragon-Queen Daughter of Sithis might find it useful.”

He held it out to her, and Liriel took it, looking it over. It looked like ordinary Forsworn armour, if you could call that gear armour. But the magic – oh, the magic. Sneaking and archery and extra magicka and a boost to Destruction magic – oh yes. She could definitely use this stuff. 

“I don't know what to say,” she whispered. “Thank you!”

“Don't mention it,” Madanach shrugged. “A king should be generous to those that helped him. And you did help me.”

“You said yourself you'd have broken out anyway sooner or later,” Liriel felt obliged to point out. 

“True,” Madanach admitted. “But I'm not one to offend the old gods by slighting their priestess.”

Priestess?? Liriel hadn't the faintest idea what that even meant, and as for slighting her, he'd barely stopped mocking her from the moment she'd walked in to his cell. It would take more than fancy armour to mollify her. Even if it did mean she now could look the part of a proper Forsworn warrior. 

“I'm not a priestess,” she told him. Now both Kaie and Madanach were looking at her as if she were simple.

“They've really lost their way, haven't they?” Kaie said, looking rather condescending.

“How have the mighty fallen,” said Madanach quietly, no trace of a smile on his face. “Listen, Liriel, it's probably best you don't come with us tonight. Just get yourself out of Markarth, go home. Don't worry about your reputation either, after tonight they'll all know who to blame and fear. But after, if any of what you heard in Cidhna Mine still resonates... you'll find me at Druadach Redoubt in the north of the Reach. You'll be welcome there. Of course, I'd take care in the rest of the Reach if I were you. Nowhere will be safe now.”

“I'll be sure to keep that in mind,” said Liriel, fully intending to get out of the Reach as soon as possible and not return any time soon if she could possibly avoid it. All the same, she couldn't help but wish them well. 

Madanach pulled his headdress on and turned to the other prisoners, all now changed into Forsworn armour, armed and waiting patiently.

“All right, brothers, I'm not going to give a long speech. You all know what you have to do, and after being stuck in Cidhna Mine, you don't need me to preach to you about why you should be fighting. So we're going to get out there and remind the world who we are.” He drew his sword, not the stone weaponry the others were carrying, but a fine glass sword with a fire enchantment on it, and used his off-hand to cast his mage armour. “Let's go kill some Nords.”

Cheering from the assembled prisoners as they charged for the exit as one. Kaie whooped for joy, cast her own mage armour and ran after them, dual-wielding two very sharp-looking Forsworn axes that looked like they were coated in poison. Madanach was last to leave, giving her one last look as he grinned at her.

“Welcome to the Forsworn, Dragon-Queen. I'll see you at Druadach.” He clapped her on the shoulder and ran for the door.

“I'll see you in Oblivion first,” Liriel muttered, pulling her cowl on. Arrogant, obnoxious, Forsworn son of a bitch. The fact that being told 'welcome to the Forsworn' had put a smile on her face that just wouldn't shift no matter how much she heaped silent insults on Madanach's retreating back was neither here nor there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cariad is a Welsh word meaning love or darling, macreena is from the Irish for my heart. I'm guessing the Reachmen probably had their own language at one point and bits have survived over the years even though they now all speak Tamrielic like everyone else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liriel gets home and rests before setting out on her next adventure, but her path inevitably leads back to the Reach. When a visit to a Forsworn camp goes wrong, it's north to Druadach Redoubt for answers. However, Madanach has questions of his own, and it turns out the Forsworn and the Dark Brotherhood are more closely linked than Liriel ever imagined...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a bit of a talky one with a bit of an info-dump, but on the other hand if you wanted invented Forsworn lore, there is a lot here. A lot of Dark Brotherhood stuff starts coming in as well - Liriel's membership there is more than just backstory, it's an integral part of the plot. Spoilers for Hearthfire and the Pieces of the Past quest in this chapter.

Markarth had been awash with blood and death that night – Thonar Silver-Blood had only been the first of many to die. Mostly guards but even so, the screams would stay with Liriel for a while. 

She'd done as Madanach had suggested, kept her head down and ran for the gates, darting past the guards and out, grabbing her horse from the stables and riding for home as fast she could. She'd not stopped until the Druadachs fell away and the tundra rose to meet her, Whiterun silhouetted on the horizon. Whiterun. Beautiful, peaceful Whiterun, where everyone knew her and trusted her, where no one was murdering anyone on the streets and certainly no one was framing her for it. Whiterun. Home, and the place where she kept the most precious and valuable of all her treasures.

She finally got in to Whiterun in the early evening, having been on the road for nearly twelve hours, saddle-sore and weary but finally home. She let herself in to Breezehome, hoping news of her arrest hadn't made it as far as Whiterun. 

“MAMA!” 

And there they were, the two lights of her life, more precious than any Daedric artefact. Her two baby girls, adopted of course, but she'd seen them and been unable to resist taking them home. Lucia, who she'd run into on her very first visit to Whiterun, learnt was a homeless orphan and made a point of giving money and food to whenever she saw her, right up until she had enough coin saved to finally buy Breezehome and get it furnished. Then she'd gone to Lucia on one of the coldest, wettest days she'd seen yet and shyly asked the girl if she'd be willing to let her adopt her. Lucia had hugged her in disbelief and nodded, and Liriel had taken her home.

Sissel was a different story – she'd had a father and sister out in Rorikstead; a father and sister who'd bullied and ill-treated her constantly. Liriel had been furious to see it happening, and after remonstrating with Lemkil had done no good, a return visit and a stealthy arrow from the hills had solved the problem. She'd stopped by again a day later and when she'd left, Sissel had come with her. Now both little girls lived at Breezehome, and Lydia, her housecarl, took care of them both when Liriel was away.

Liriel might be a murderer, Liriel might be a thief, but Liriel still believed in Lady Mara and Liriel couldn't have walked away from them. They were her babies and though they were human, she adored them both.

“Mama, you're home!” Lucia cried, flinging her arms around her mother. “We missed you!”

“Ri'saad the Khajiit told us you'd been arrested!” Sissel cried. “He said you'd been locked up in a dungeon in Markarth and were never coming home!”

Liriel was going to wring that cat's neck next time she saw him.

“It's all right,” Liriel soothed, kneeling down and putting her arms around them both. “I did end up in prison for something I didn't do, but it was all a terrible misunderstanding and it's all sorted out now. I'm home and safe, I promise you.”

“We knew you'd come back, Mama,” Lucia murmured into Liriel's hair. “We knew you wouldn't leave us.”

“Never,” Liriel whispered, kissing them both in turn. They all hugged for a few minutes, then Liriel let them go, smiling to see them both again. Already they both looked so different from the downtrodden little things she'd taken in. They'd both put on weight, they both had nice clothes now, they both looked so much happier and more confident. Liriel held hands with them both, just glad to see them again. Of course that was when she realised the sleeves on Lucia's dress, once wrist length, were now half an inch shorter. 

“Lucia, has your dress shrunk?” Liriel asked, alarmed. Were they not being washed properly?? She'd heard of that happening, but the water had to be fairly hot to do that to clothes.

“Oh! No, Mama, it's just Lydia says I've grown,” Lucia said shyly, pulling her hair in front of her face. “It's fine, I don't mind it like this.”

Liriel's heart went out to the poor thing. Both of them were still so pathetically grateful for anything she gave them, from food to toys to books to clothes. As if they were afraid she'd send them away if they complained.

“Don't be silly, sweetie, you can't walk around in clothes that are too small for you. I shall be sure to get you some more as soon as I can. Sissel, what about you, are you all right for clothes?”

It turned out Sissel's dress no longer fastened properly at the back either. New clothes needed for both then. Liriel had to wonder if this was, well, normal. Sissel said she was seven, Lucia thought she was nine, but that meant nothing to Liriel. Altmer of that age were still in the cradle. This growing so fast, was it normal?? Were human children meant to do that?? She had no idea and didn't know who to ask without sounding like an idiot. Still, her girls looked healthy and happy apart from the frightening growth rate. She wouldn't worry too much just yet. Lydia hadn't seemed to think anything was amiss so Liriel supposed there was nothing too odd in it.

Lydia arrived from downstairs, having heard the noise and guessed Liriel was back.

“Liriel, my Thane, thank Mara you're back. Ri'saad was telling me the most bizarre stories. You ended up in Cidhna Mine? Something to do with the Forsworn?” Lydia hauled her off to one side, as the two girls ran off to get ready for dinner. “My Thane, what in Nirn happened?”

“It's hard to explain,” Liriel admitted. “Yes, I got arrested, but I didn't do it, I was framed. I ended up in Cidhna Mine anyway though, but I got out. It's fine, Lydia, you don't need to worry.”

“Don't I?” Lydia asked, raising an eyebrow. “Liriel, I know you've got... affiliations. But you've also got two little girls who were heartbroken to think you might not be coming home. I'll take care of them, yes, but I'm not their mother. You are. You're the one who rescued them both, the one they adore and look up to, and if you've managed to get yourself mixed up in something you can't handle...”

“I said it's fine!” Liriel snapped. Lydia flinched back then lowered her eyes, contrite.

“Of course it is, I didn't mean to pry,” she said quickly. “But if you're in some sort of trouble...”

“I was,” said Liriel shortly. “But I got out of it. Everyone knows now it wasn't me who killed all those people and I got to escape. End of story, I'm home, can we all get on with our lives now please?”

Lydia looked up at that.

“You escaped?? How? No one escapes Cidhna Mine! It's the most secure prison in the country!”

Liriel allowed herself a little smile at this. She'd have to think of a suitable story to be able to tell people. She wasn't sure Madanach would appreciate her telling everyone he'd helped her get out.

“I had a little help,” was all she felt safe saying about that. “Come on, let's have dinner, I want to see my girls again!”

Lydia backed off and let it go, knowing when not to push her Thane for information. It wasn't always healthy to know too much about what Liriel got up to, and Liriel was just thankful her housecarl knew the value of discretion. An association with the Forsworn was something Liriel did not want getting out if she could help it.

For a fleeting moment, she wondered how Madanach was doing. Had Kaie got him out of the city, had he made it to Druadach Redoubt? How was he adjusting to being free? She remembered him telling her he'd lost track of time years ago. She hoped he was coping with a world that had day and night in it again. He wasn't in bad health exactly, not that she had noticed, but she'd seen the lines on his face while he'd slept. He was getting old for a human, and he'd already been the Forsworn leader when they'd sent him to prison twenty years ago, married with a nine year old daughter – not a green youth then. How he'd survived down there without losing his mind, Liriel wasn't sure, but she respected him for it. She just hoped he'd not managed to survive in Cidhna only to go to pieces once he got out. Not that she liked him, certainly not. He was a stubborn, cantankerous old bastard with a vicious streak a mile wide, but he'd treated her well. Let her borrow his bed, not kicked her out when he'd needed sleep, not taken advantage. He wasn't all bad, and he was entitled to a little compassion too, even if he definitely didn't deserve it.

“Mama, there was a man in town today giving out leaflets to travellers, but I asked him nicely and he gave me one too.” Sissel was shoving a piece of paper over to her. “It's about a museum opening in Dawnstar. Mama, can we go?”

A museum? In Dawnstar? Who on earth would open one there, it wasn't the most visited of places. Liriel took the pamphlet and read. Some sort of museum dedicated to the Mythic Dawn. Wasn't that the cult that sparked off the Oblivion Crisis? Why would anyone open a museum about them? And in Dawnstar of all places?

“I'll go and see if it's at all interesting,” Liriel promised. “Dawnstar's a long way and very cold. I wouldn't want to take you all the way there only to find out it's really boring.”

Sissel pouted, but Liriel remained firm. She certainly wasn't risking her girls on this one – last time she'd visited Dawnstar she'd got mixed up in destroying a Daedric artefact and saving the town from nightmares. Fun but not something she'd want her children involved with, thank you very much. Still, a museum trip didn't sound too dangerous. Not like the owner was planning to summon Mehrunes Dagon himself, right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Liriel cursed as she dodged arrows and fireballs and hid behind a ward, beating a hasty retreat from Hag Rock Redoubt. Welcome to the Forsworn, Madanach had said. These are your new brothers, Madanach had said. Here, have some fancy armour to look the part, Madanach had said.

Clearly these bastards hadn't got the memo yet. Liriel abandoned all hope of retrieving the damn pommel stone and fled down the hill, letting her Atronach deal with anyone following her. It wasn't fair, it really wasn't. She'd survived the Orc stronghold and actually broken in without needing to kill Ghunzul in the end. She'd broken into Jorgen's cabin in Morthal with no problems whatsoever. Now she was back in the Reach, trying to obtain what she had naively thought would be an easy part of Mehrunes Razor to find, and here she was, up against this. They had a troll, for Sithis' sake! She'd even worn the Armour of the Old Gods Madanach had given her but it hadn't helped. Cutting her losses, she ran to where she'd left her horse. Someone had a lot of explaining to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Many hours riding, but she found the place in the end. A craggy outpost in the Druadach Valley, nestling under a cliff – Druadach Redoubt, where Madanach had told her she'd be welcome. She'd better be. She wasn't sure she'd survive another camp of Forsworn attacking her. 

There was a small group of them, sitting around outside in the late afternoon sun, a campfire going and a small tent nearby, just inside the wooden stockade, complete with goat's heads on pikes at the actual entrance. Very tasteful.

Liriel dismounted, leaving her horse by a nearby juniper tree, and made her way over, suddenly feeling her throat dry up. A couple of Forsworn looked her way and sat up, reaching for weapons, until the woman next to them motioned for them to sit down. Liriel recognised Kaie and her nerves eased a little... then she realised the Forsworn man standing up, staring intently at the sky, was Madanach himself.

He hadn't seemed to notice her yet. Too busy watching something. Or maybe just getting reacquainted with the sky after too long inside. He had his right hand raised, clearly focused on something. Liriel approached and then stopped a few feet away, wondering what on earth he was doing. She had her answer when seconds later, a shadow flickered over the ground and Madanach launched a lightning bolt into the sky. Something crashed to the ground, and Madanach punched the air, laughing.

“Still got it!” he announced, sounding extremely cheerful. One of the Forsworn ran off to collect whatever poor creature Madanach had just shot down, presumably a hawk or something.

“Well done, Da!” Kaie called from where she was sitting cross-legged on the ground. “Knew you could do it.”

“I try,” Madanach shrugged. Only three weeks since they'd broken out of prison together, and already he was looking healthier, less haggard. Cleaner, certainly – he looked like he'd bathed only that morning – and he didn't look nearly as pale. Back in Cidhna Mine, he'd had a certain charisma about him. Here in daylight, dressed in Forsworn gear with a sword at his side, he practically resonated power. The pent-up anger and frustration had dissipated – no, found an outlet and transmuted into an aura of calm menace. Liriel swallowed nervously, remembering an afternoon she'd spent at Solitude Docks trying to shoot down hawks for the feathers and failing, and there was Madanach managing it without even breaking a sweat. Madanach of Druadach was a very dangerous man, and now said dangerous man had noticed she was here.

“I wondered when you'd come back,” he said, grinning as his eyes roamed all over her. Did the man have no shame? Of course not, she belatedly began to recall. 

“And you're wearing my armour. Even better. It suits you.”

It barely covered her and she'd had to use Stoneflesh before she could feel remotely secure in it. No doubt that was part of the appeal as far as Madanach was concerned. 

“Madanach,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. Damned if she was giving him the satisfaction of letting him know just how much he was getting to her. “I thought I should see how you were doing. I know after so long underground adjusting to surface life must be difficult.”

Madanach laughed once, still with that infuriating grin in place and turned to Kaie. “Did you hear that, m'inyeen? The Dragon-Queen was worried about me. She couldn't focus on her slaying of dragons and studies of the arcane and murdering the innocent because she was too busy fearing for my wellbeing. Liriel, I'm touched.”

Ah yes. This was why she'd not come back before. He might have looked gentle and vulnerable while he'd been asleep, but awake he was all snide remarks and arrogantly lording it over everyone. Why she'd ever thought to be concerned was beyond her.

“Yes, well, you're clearly fine, so I shall be on my way. Good luck with your, er, claiming back the Reach.” Liriel turned, preparing to leave. She'd get that pommel stone another way. Maybe Erandur could be persuaded to help...

Madanach's hand clamped down on her arm, and as she turned round, icy glare in place to challenge him, she saw, for the briefest of seconds, genuine fear in his eyes. Only for a second, but it was there. 

“Don't... you don't have to go,” he said, sounding a little awkward. “I mean, you've come all the way out here, it's going to be dark soon, why don't you stay and have dinner with us? We've got beds to spare, it's no bother.”

“Let go of me,” said Liriel calmly, and to her surprise, he actually did. That was unexpected. She'd thought he'd tighten his grip just to annoy her. She'd not expected him to actually honour her wishes.

“You didn't come here just to see how we were doing, did you?” he asked quietly. “You had a reason.”

Liriel hesitated, then nodded. Might as well be up front about it. She wasn't even asking for help, she just wanted answers.

“I had some questions,” she admitted. Madanach inclined his head, looking thoughtful.

“Can't guarantee I'll be able to help, but you're welcome to ask. Take a seat by the fire, we'll eat and talk out here. Kaie, can you tell Odvan to send some food out for us, also send some of the good jenever and some Reach-tonic. Don't worry about sticking around yourself, Liriel's a friend and I don't think there's a lot that she and I can't deal with.”

Kaie got up, brushing grass off her legs, and bowed slightly, grin on her face.

“Don't worry, Da, I'll make sure you've got your privacy,” she laughed, beckoning for the others to leave. Two Forsworn moved to take up lookout positions a few feet away, near enough to intervene if violence broke out, far enough away to not be able to hear their conversation, while everyone else followed Kaie into the nearby cave. Leaving her alone with the King in Rags, who was now sitting down next to the fire, stirring the logs with a stick and hitting it with a Flames spell to persuade it to flare up a bit.

“Not so warm with the others gone,” said Madanach casually. “And it gets dark quickly out here – the sun's gone behind the mountains before you know it. I'm still not used to it you know, the light changing all the time like this.”

Liriel settled herself next to him. She'd wondered how he was managing. Apparently not quite as well as he'd initially made out. 

“This is why you're sitting out here and not inside, isn't it? You missed the sky.”

Madanach nodded, watching the setting sun. “Not even so much missed – after a while I forgot what it was like. It just seemed like a distant dream I once had. Now I can walk in the sunlight again and it's... well, it's a little unbelievable. I keep wondering why it's so bright and why the magelight's lasted for so long, and then I remember that's the sun. Hard to believe, I know. I'm trying to spend as much time as I can out here when it's not raining, try and get used to it again, but it's a little nervewracking without company. All that sky, all that openness – it feels like the gods just peeled the roof off the world and are staring down at me.”

Liriel looked up at the sky, the first stars just starting to appear. Now that he'd said that, she was starting to feel a little anxious herself. Altmer cosmology taught that the sky was the location of Aetherius – mortals could no longer see it as it truly was, but it was there and her Aedra ancestors lived there still, watching over their children. She knew they loved her, but she wasn't at all certain they necessarily approved. Feeling a little nervous, she edged a bit closer to Madanach. He glanced up at her, mouth quirking up in a faint half-smile but didn't say anything.

“So, you had questions,” he said. “I'm limited in what I can tell you, you understand. I've got a war to fight, I can't give away all our secrets, not even to you. But ask your questions, I'll tell you what I can.”

Of course she had, lots of questions, very important questions about how the Forsworn were organised and why she could walk in here and be greeted as not just a friend but be given a private audience with the King in Rags himself without any preamble whatsoever, and yet a friendly approach to Hag Rock had resulted in fireballs. So it was that the first question out of her mouth was:

“What's with the goat's heads everywhere? I mean, they're not exactly pretty, are they now?”

She knew it was a stupid question as soon as she opened her mouth, and the pained look on Madanach's face confirmed it. 

“Are you a city girl, by any chance?” he said wearily. Liriel was forced to admit that that was the case – born and raised in Alinor and not really getting out of the city much, certainly not doing anything so crass as manual labour. It wasn't until she'd decided she was bored of the stultifyingly dreary life of an upper-class Altmer lady and wanted to broaden her horizons by going to study magic abroad that she'd got to see how ordinary people actually lived. It still took some getting used to.

“So you don't know anything about goats then,” said Madanach. “Or domestic livestock in general, I take it.”

“Well no, that's what we've got farmers for,” said Liriel, belatedly beginning to realise that perhaps Forsworn society wasn't anything like as stratified as Altmer society.

“Well, Queen of Dragons, allow me to enlighten you,” Madanach told her. “Out in the Reach, we Forsworn have not had a servant class to do all the hard jobs for us, and trade's not really an option either. We grow our own food or we hunt it. We don't have a lot of space for livestock – cows are expensive, they're slow and they're noticeable. Nords see cows wandering around the countryside, they're going to get suspicious. Or they're going to get greedy and start taking them for themselves. But there's wild goats all over these mountains, and no one notices those.”

“They're your prime herd animals,” Liriel guessed. “Clever. But that still doesn't explain why the heads...”

“Herd animal is a bit of a disservice to them,” Madanach said. “They're extremely bright. We don't keep huge flocks of them, but it's rare a Forsworn hideout doesn't have a few wandering about the place. They're intelligent, they're loyal, they eat virtually anything, they give us milk, they make fantastic watch animals, and when they die, we can use the pelt and the meat. Except by the time a goat dies, it's usually become quite beloved by the camp. It kept watch in life, so we honour it in death by ensuring its head can keep watching over us. That's why, Liriel.”

“That... makes an awful lot of sense,” said Liriel thoughtfully. “You've got some here?”

“One,” said Madanach. “Lives inside, keeps watch for intruders, gives good milk. We called her Betsi.”

Liriel couldn't help but giggle. “Betsi the goat! That's so cute!”

“She's not cute, she's a fearless watchgoat of the Forsworn!” Madanach protested, but his heart clearly wasn't in it because a second later they were both laughing.

“All right,” he admitted. “Maybe we're a little fond of her.”

Liriel dried her eyes, smiling. Maybe he wasn't all bad after all. She couldn't call him a decent human being because he blatantly wasn't, but he did at least have feelings.

At that point, Odvan, a Forsworn Liriel remembered from Cidhna Mine, arrived with a tray containing two plates of stuffed roast pheasant and assorted vegetables, and two different bottles, along with glasses.

“Dinner, jenever and Reach tonic, as requested,” Odvan announced, lowering the tray, slipped a bear pelt off his arm and spreading it out on the ground for them both. 

“Is it the good jenever?” Madanach asked hopefully. Odvan, far from being obsequious, just looked at his king rather patronisingly.

“It's the only jenever, boss,” Odvan replied. “Unless you wanted some Skooma adding.”

Madanach visibly shuddered at the mere idea. “No. Sithis, no. I had enough of the stuff in Cidhna to last me a lifetime. Just leave me a bottle of this stuff, I'll be quite happy.”

“Thought you'd say that, boss,” Odvan said cheerfully. “You have a good evening now. You too, Liriel.” 

Liriel wished him likewise, before turning to her dinner. She'd just reached for a fork when Madanach stopped her.

“Not yet. There's formalities.”

Oh good. Formalities. Liriel hated formalities. Especially the tedious and lengthy kind that went on while food was in front of her, getting cold and she was hungry, dammit! Fortunately, Madanach had never been much of one for that sort of thing either. He just opened one of the bottles and poured its contents into the glasses, measuring out a finger's worth each, then sealing the bottle and topping the glasses up with what was in this one. Both were colourless liquids that might be water but Liriel suspected otherwise. Madanach indicated for her to take a glass.

“What is it?” she asked, sniffing the contents. Definitely alcoholic.

“Jenever. Made from fermented juniper berries and potatoes then distilled,” Madanach told her. “Traditional beverage of the Reachmen since time immemorial so of course the first thing the Nords banned after they overthrew us. Apparently drinking it is bad for our moral fibre and makes us lazy workers.”

“You don't have any moral fibre,” Liriel pointed out. Madanach looked up, grinning.

“No, and I've been stuck in Cidhna Mine for the last two decades without any, so I think that proves the Nords wrong on this one, doesn't it? Now, if you're my daughter, the correct way of drinking it is to get a small tumbler, fill it up with the stuff and knock it back in one, but that's the degenerate youth of today for you. When you get to my age, you're rather more civilised about these things, and you strike me as someone who is nothing if not civilised.”

“How old are you anyway?” Liriel asked. She knew humans rarely lived more than eighty years at most, but Bretons tended to live longer than the other human races and it wasn't uncommon for them to make it to a hundred. As far as guessing any given age and relating it to a life-cycle stage though, well, that wasn't Liriel's strong point. 

“Fifty-nine,” Madanach said, and Liriel felt the glass shaking in her hands. Fifty-nine?? That was no age at all, Altmer only came of age at fifty. But Bretons could see out a century, Altmer could see out a millennium, so if she multiplied it by ten, that made him 590 years old in Altmer years, approximately. Middle-aged, over half his life gone, but by no means dead yet. Still capable, still strong. Still a force to be reckoned with.

Madanach was now indicating the other bottle.

“Now, in here we have the second vital ingredient for a good jenever drink. This is Reach-tonic, and it's made of fresh juniper berry juice, purified river water, all mixed together and brought to boil with the bark of a juniper tree and some blue mountain flowers steeped in it, then the whole thing's filtered. Said to cure all sorts of ailments, which is partly why I drink it, but partly because I just like the taste. To really set it off, we'd need a slice of citron fruit from Cyrodiil, but we don't have any. But we can still make one final finishing touch. I'd do yours for you, but I'm presuming the Archmage of Winterhold can cast her own frost magic.” He held up his glass, raised fingers above it and delicately drew a ring of ice around the sides of the glass, just above the surface of the liquid. Liriel could have squealed in delight. She used to do this all the time in Alinor, she'd never found anywhere outside the Summerset Isles where this was ever common practice. Most humans weren't magically skilled enough to ever think of chilling their drinks. 

Raising her glass, Liriel carefully cast her own frost magic, first the ice rim, and then a personal touch, a jolt of ice magic into the drink itself, causing ice crystals to form in it. Madanach nodded, impressed, and raised his glass. 

“I knew you'd fit in around here,” he purred, pleased. “And now we toast. To my good health and yours, my lady Dragon-Queen. Slanta!”

Liriel didn't recognise the word but she knew a toast when she heard one. “Slanta!” she called back, tapping her glass against his and taking a sip.

Sithis, but it hit the spot nicely. Strong, but not too strong, and sweet like juniper. 

“I could stand to drink more of these,” Liriel gasped. Madanach was leaning back, eyes closed and clearly in a state of bliss.

“Come back any time and I will happily mix you one,” said Madanach. He waved vaguely in the direction of the food tray. “You can start eating now. Let me know if you need it warming up any.”

The food, as it turned out, was still warm, mainly due to a small fire rune on the tray and that was another thing Liriel hadn't seen since leaving home, runes used for anything outside battle magic. She could have cried. Who would have thought that she'd come all the way to Skyrim and the first real reminders of home would have come from dinner with the king of a tribe of savages by Altmer standards?

She revised her opinions of the Forsworn. Clearly they weren't as uncivilised as everyone thought. And the food turned out to be delicious. Seemed Reachman cooking wasn't dissimilar to that of their High Rock cousins.

“If you keeping making me meals like this, you know I'm going to have to keep coming back,” she told him. 

“What a tragedy that would be,” Madanach murmured, grinning up at her from where he was half-sitting, half-lying to eat his own meal. Liriel sipped her jenever and ate, watching as the sun set and the stars came out, the aurora lighting up the sky as Masser edged above the eastern horizon. It was a beautiful evening in the Reach, and unless a dragon showed up to ruin it, she needn't worry about a thing with the Forsworn on guard. It was nice to just be able to relax for once. She would indeed have to visit again if she could expect this sort of hospitality every time. 

Finally she was done and lay back on the grass, pushing the plate away from her, sipping her jenever again. Madanach had also finished and was watching her, curious.

“You said you had questions,” he said. “And all you've asked me so far is why there's goat's heads on pikes around our camps. Surely that wasn't it?”

By this point, Liriel was full of pheasant and feeling quite at ease with the world on account of all the jenever, but she did just about recall what spurred her to come north in the first place. 

“Why is it,” she began, “that I can turn up here and get plied with roast pheasant and fine liqueurs and a private audience with the King in Rags, but I go to any other Forsworn camp and they try to kill me? I even wore the armour and everything! Can't you send them a memo or something, tell them I'm a friend of yours? I mean, I am a friend of yours, right?”

Madanach sipped his jenever, expression unreadable, eyes hooded in the firelight, clearly contemplating how to respond to that. 

“Of course you're a friend of mine, you'd never have been allowed to get this close to me if I didn't trust you,” he finally said. “But you're asking a very dangerous question there, my Liriel. I could answer it, but it involves giving an awful lot of our secrets away. Information for information, Liriel.”

Well, wasn't that just typical. Still, nothing came for free, she supposed. All the same, unless he was after some arcane magical knowledge from the College of Winterhold, she couldn't think what sort of knowledge she'd have that would be of any use to him. She didn't think a Forsworn would want to learn the Thu'um, unless of course he wanted a psychological weapon against the Nords.

“What did you want to know?” she asked. Madanach pursed his lips, eyes narrowed, clearly thinking how to frame his question, before leaning forward, edging closer so his eyes were inches from her own.

“I want to know why the Sacrament stopped working,” he growled. 

Of all the questions she'd thought he'd ask, she didn't think it would have been that one.

“I'm sorry?” she managed to breathe.

“You heard me,” Madanach said, glaring. “Why did the Sacrament stop working? When my daughter died, when my wife decided to spend her time ascending to Matriarchy rather than rescuing me, when I wanted out of that daedra's bargain I made with Thonar and called on the Night Mother to help me, why did she not answer me? I'd get nightshade smuggled in, I had a shiv for that very purpose, I had candles stockpiled, every time a prisoner died, I'd have the body brought in to do the Sacrament. It never worked. Not once. I had silver ore to hand over to pay an assassin with, but no one ever arrived. They say no one escapes Cidhna Mine, but we had ways of getting information and supplies in and out, Kaie was visiting me every week once she was old enough, I had an agent in the guards. No one from your damn Dark Brotherhood, your priesthood of Sithis, no child of your Unholy Matriarch ever turned up. No one until you waltzed in demanding to be let out and blaming me, and not knowing a damn thing about any Sacrament with me. You want to know why I put up with you, why I helped you? Because I'd heard rumours the Altmer Dragonborn was a child of the Night Mother and wondered if perhaps, just perhaps, you were the answer to my prayers. Then Kaie brings your gear and what do we find but Shrouded Robes and Armour which you were getting dressed in straight away. Don't deny you're Dark Brotherhood, Liriel. I just want to know why the Dread Father turned his back on me when I needed him most.”

Liriel didn't know what to tell him. Truth was, she wasn't even sure herself why the Night Mother had stopped talking for so long. All she had to go on was what Cicero had told her, dear, sweet, more than half-crazy Cicero. Exactly how much of this she could safely reveal to Madanach was something else, even though the grief-stricken desperation in his eyes made her badly want to.

“I can't – I can't tell you, Madanach. I wish I could!” she sighed. “But I can't just go spilling Dark Brotherhood secrets like this. Not to an outsider! You understand that, right?”

Madanach laughed bitterly, turning away and lying on his back, staring at the stars.

“Old gods preserve us,” he said quietly. “You truly know nothing, do you?”

“Because you won't tell me!” Liriel cried, getting a little sick of this. “What is this big secret you keep expecting me to know? I'm just a raw recruit, Madanach. I've been one of them for months, if that. And you're not one at all, although I'm willing to believe you're more than capable of cold-blooded murder.”

“I am that,” Madanach murmured. “All right, Liriel. I will tell you what you should already know, and if that's to your liking, then I'm hoping you'll answer my question.”

Liriel sipped her jenever and agreed. Finally, a few answers. She watched as Madanach lay back, watching the aurora blaze.

“The first thing you have to know to truly understand us, how we think, how we see the world, in fact, probably the only thing, is to know who we worship. Know our gods. Few ever even think to ask.”

“You worship the old gods,” said Liriel, wondering what this had to do with anything. “The ones that came before the Eight Divines. And Talos, if you count him. Which I don't.”

“Should hope not,” Madanach growled. “He's the reason we lost our kingdom, him and that Empire of his. I don't even respect Tiber Septim as a man, worshipping him as a god is madness. You know we worship the old gods but do you know who the old gods are?” 

No, was the short answer to that one. She'd read a lot, but never seen anything on the Forsworn gods. Even _Madmen of the Reach_ was silent on who they were.

“The Daedra?” she hazarded a guess. Faint smile on Madanach's face, which probably meant the answer was no.

“Before even the Daedra,” said Madanach quietly. “Life and death themselves, existence and non-existence. The power from which all things come, and the power by which all things end, shaping the world into being, deciding what comes to pass and what does not. Everything came from them and they're still working today, still dancing and that dance is what makes the world turn. That dance gave us the Aedra, and it gave us the Daedra too, although they're only lesser aspects of the two greater powers. I'll tell you their names, but you already know them, or you should at least. Anu, Lord of All That Is. And the other, the Lord of All That Is Not? You serve him, Liriel.”

Liriel lifted her head, her yellow eyes staring into Madanach's grey ones. She'd heard him swear by Sithis earlier, but had assumed he'd just been reading up on the Brotherhood and was trying to make her feel at home. It had never even occurred to her his interest in the Brotherhood was more than professional, that his rage and fury at Sithis never answering his call wasn't just despair at not getting Thonar killed but an actual religious crisis.

“The Forsworn worship Sithis??” she whispered, wondering how, why she never knew this, why no one, not even Cicero who should know these things, had ever told her this before. Madanach just inclined his head.

“Both of them, Anu and Sithis together. You cannot have one without the other. Everything about us comes from that. We do not fear death because we would not be alive without it, and one day we too will die so that the world can keep turning. We don't need a dream of Sovngarde to make us brave enough to fight. We fight and risk our lives because we know the Dread Father will claim us when he's ready and we can't change that. No one knows the mind of the Dread Father. No one but you.”

He'd rolled over, staring into her eyes again as if she was the answer to the mysteries of life, the universe and everything.

“Me?” she whispered nervously. Madanach grinned, laughed and the moment was lost.  
“Not you personally, girl, I'm prepared to believe you're not exactly a high-ranked member of the Brotherhood. But while the Hags invoked Sithis, sacrificed themselves to him for their power, they could never clearly know his mind, never be one with him. But they told of one who one day would ascend beyond even what they'd achieved, a Matriarch who would make the ultimate sacrifice of not just her soul but her very life and know the will of Sithis first hand.”

Liriel could barely breathe. Everything Astrid and Cicero had told her came rushing back, that there'd been an assassin once who'd become the lover of Sithis, mother of his five children and killed them to win his favour, becoming the Night Mother.

“The Night Mother,” she whispered. “She – she killed her children for him and he made her his wife.”

“I know,” Madanach whispered back. “Life and death in an eternal cycle – she brought them into being then she took them out of existence. The ultimate move in the dance, and it gave her power beyond anyone's wildest dreams. I'm a father, Liriel, and I've seen my children die, the Nords killed my daughter Eithne right in front of me. I could never... I could never have killed them myself.”

“Nor me,” Liriel said softly, Sissel and Lucia's faces before her eyes and even though she'd not birthed them, she could never bring herself to hurt them. Even taking splinters out of fingers and bathing scraped knees was an ordeal. To do what the Night Mother had? She could never do it. “So are you telling me that to the Forsworn, the Night Mother's like a goddess?”

“A Matriarch,” Madanach confirmed. “The Matriarch of Matriarchs, one who even the Hags must bend the knee to. When she became the Night Mother, back in the Second Era, the Hags knew and they trembled. All things must die and they foresaw the Night Mother and her children could bring them down. Then that book, _A Kiss, Sweet Mother,_ began circulating and people tried the ritual. And the Brotherhood answered. Some of them even came to us for training, hailing us in Sithis' name, and we welcomed them in. It's a sacred calling to be one of them, Liriel. They were strong and they were deadly and they were even more so once they'd trained with us. To serve Sithis, enacting his will in the world, removing those who have outlived their usefulness... damn, Liriel, if the Forsworn hadn't needed me here, I would have joined them. As it is I made the pilgrimage to Bravil once as a young man. I wanted to pray to Sithis to give me the strength to bring down the Nords. There was a time when I even thought he'd answered. When I took Markarth and they first called me Reach-King.”

The fire had burned low, the guards on duty had changed shifts, the sun was long gone and Secunda was now rising while Masser loomed overhead, but Liriel didn't even care. Everything she thought she knew had been turned upside down.

“Then what?” she whispered. “What happened?”

Madanach raised his eyes to hers, almost pleading with her. “I was hoping you could tell me. For centuries, decades, the Forsworn and Brotherhood worked together, their Skyrim Sanctuaries sending assistance while we trained their assassins. We were the Hands of Sithis and we struck where we wanted. But after the Oblivion Crisis, it started to fall apart. Something happened in the Brotherhood in Cyrodiil, there was some internal crisis, a betrayal, I don't know what. One of the Skyrim Sanctuaries was closed and its occupants summoned to Cyrodiil to bolster failing numbers there after a Sanctuary was wiped out. The other Sanctuary couldn't send people any more and the agreement started to fade. No big argument, no falling out, but a fading. By the time I was Reach-King, the alliance was a distant memory, but we still remembered. The Hags still knew it and they said you would return, that the Dread Father had not abandoned us. We kept hoping it was true. But then it all went wrong, I ended up dethroned and on the run, not even able to see my wife and daughters more than a few times a year in case the Nords followed me to them. Then my eldest, Eithne, turned fourteen and came to join me here – and weeks later, the Nords found us. She died defending me. Ulfric Stormcloak Shouted her to the floor and stabbed her through the heart. He'd have killed me too and after seeing my baby girl murdered, I wouldn't even have cared, but Thonar was there and he decided I could be useful. You know the rest.”

“Madanach,” Liriel whispered. “Sithis help me, I'm so sorry.” She closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms around him and holding him. She heard him exhale sharply, then felt his hands on her skin, sliding around her back as he pulled her closer, clinging on to her like a drowning man clings to the one that rescues him. Liriel just held him, silently screaming to Sithis why, why the Brotherhood had fallen apart, why it was just one Sanctuary and that never likely to care about a group of rebels with no coin to pay them. Astrid didn't care about the Night Mother and would never bother with the Forsworn. Of all of them, Cicero was the only one who might actually understand – but he'd never leave the Night Mother. It was just her, the Listener of the Night Mother, with a Sanctuary that would never listen to her in turn.

“Don't give me your apologies,” he growled, voice muffled where he was leaning against her shoulder. “Just tell me why.”

She owed him that, at least. From the sounds of it, he was a more devoted son of Sithis than anyone in Falkreath. 

“I don't know why,” Liriel said quietly. “But I can tell you what happened, as far as I know it.” So she told him what Cicero and Astrid had told her, that there'd been trouble in Cyrodiil after the war and the other Sanctuaries had been closed or fallen apart, and then the Night Mother's Crypt had been attacked. Madanach listened, growing pale to hear how the Night Mother's body had been rescued and brought back to Cheydinhal, the last Cyrodiil Sanctuary standing, but that the Listener, the only one who could hear the Night Mother's words and pass on the contracts, was dead and the Night Mother never chose a new one.

“Wait a second,” Madanach interrupted. “Are you saying that the Night Mother's physical remains are her conduit to you all, and she only talks to one of you? This Listener?”

Liriel nodded. “Yes. That's how the Sacrament works, the Night Mother hears it and tells the Listener and they send someone out to meet the client. But there wasn't a Listener any more and the Night Mother never talked to anyone. So the Sacrament never worked and Cheydinhal Sanctuary fell apart. The Sanctuary in Falkreath is the last one, and it still works but it doesn't rely on the Night Mother. Astrid, that's our leader, has got contacts and regular customers all over the place and she takes work off them. But if you performed the Sacrament in secret in Cidhna Mine, Astrid would never have known to come find you.”

Slowly, she felt Madanach let her go, sitting upright and grimacing as he did so, staring into the dying fire.

“The Night Mother no longer speaks,” he whispered. “The Crone of Crones, Matriarch of Matriarchs, she is silent. Gone into the Void. And all that is left is one Sanctuary. Anu preserve us, and I thought we had it bad.”

Liriel wondered if she ought to tell him. She didn't know if it would do any good. It wasn't like she had any real power. Listener of the Night Mother, but she had one Sanctuary at her disposal and they didn't recognise her as leader.

“No one else must ever know this, Liriel,” Madanach was saying, sounding utterly despairing. “They can never know that the Black Hand of Sithis will never open for us again. You have no idea, Liriel, no idea what the Ascension of the Night Mother meant for us. It was the promise that we could commune with Sithis himself, channel his power, influence him and use his gifts to bring down all in our way. That's why we trained Brotherhood assassins, that's why we sent many of our own to join their ranks. They were Sithis Incarnate, true-born killers. To know that's not true any more, that Sithis has abandoned them... Liriel, if this got out, it would be the end of us. If Sithis abandoned the Brotherhood, what's to stop him doing the same to us? Maybe he already has. All things must die. Maybe we're not meant to win.”

Madanach was staring into the fire, shoulders hunched, and for the first time since she'd known him, Liriel could sense something dying inside, the spark that had lit a rebellion and taken the Reach the first time, the spark that had kept him alive in Cidhna Mine all this time, finally going out. It was breaking Liriel's heart. She'd take the insults and the taunting and the calling her Queen of Dragons like it meant something, if it just meant he kept his spark. If he lost that... she knew without doubt he'd likely not see his sixtieth birthday.

“He hasn't abandoned us,” Liriel heard herself saying. “It's not hopeless. Madanach, the Night Mother's Keeper survived somehow – he was the one tasked with taking care of the remains. He kept them safe, kept them pristine and he brought them to Skyrim this year. He got to the Sanctuary just after I joined, we've got the Night Mother there now. The conduit's still open, Madanach. She spoke to me. She said I was her Listener now. Except... except Astrid won't hear of it and insists I should obey her instead, and the rest of the Sanctuary, everyone except the Keeper, all back her. So I don't think I'm going to be much good to you or anyone, but-” She didn't have the chance to finish the sentence. Madanach had turned to face her as she'd talked, eyes getting wider by the second.

“You. Are Listener.”

Liriel nodded, biting her lip and wondering if she should have kept quiet. 

“The Voice of the Night Mother. The Chosen of Sithis. You. Liriel, the great and powerful Queen of Dragons.”

She should definitely have kept quiet. She nodded, tensing up and preparing for the inevitable mockery. She was right in one respect. He did laugh. He threw back his head, howling with joyous laughter, the spark more than back. It had turned into an unholy conflagration, and Liriel began to fear it had sent him mad. It seemed the guards on duty were thinking something similar.

“Er, boss?” and that was Duach who had given her Skooma after she'd pretended to be an addict. “Are you alright over there?”

“Yes!” Madanach laughed. “Yes, I'm fine, I'm more than fine! Sithis answered our prayers, boys!”

A pause. “That's lovely, boss, but we didn't pray for you to go mad.”

Madanach shot a glare in his direction. “Were I not in such a good mood, you'd be on the receiving end of a lightning bolt up your backside, Duach.” 

Duach laughed good-naturedly and called to his fellow guard. “Yeah, he's alright, Mhairi. Back to normal.” Mhairi laughed in turn and the two of them resumed looking out over the valley. Madanach rolled his eyes and winced as he pulled himself to his feet, extending a hand to Liriel. She took it, allowing herself to be hauled upright.

“Madanach, don't expect miracles, the Sanctuary all follow Astrid, not me!” she said weakly. “It's just me and Cicero the Keeper who still follow the Night Mother, and Cicero's insane.”

Madanach didn't even seem to care. “So, you're the rightful leader of a once great force of murdering bastards, but you can't do your job properly because of some controlling bitch who won't release her grip on power, is that right?”

That pretty much summed it up, yes. Madanach nodded, looking sympathetic. 

“Yes, believe it or not, I know exactly how that feels. Come on, let's get inside. We've got a lot to talk about. You may not realise it, but this changes everything.”

Liriel really couldn't see how anything had changed at all, but Madanach seemed fairly determined. She might as well see where this was going.

“What do we need to talk about?” she asked, and then it occurred to her he'd never answered her question. 

“You told me what I wanted to know,” said Madanach, grinning back at her as he led her into Druadach Redoubt. “Time I told you what you were after and then how to go about rectifying matters. Listen well, Listener. Time you learnt how the Forsworn actually function.”

Liriel followed inside eagerly. It looked like she was finally going to get some answers, and if she was really lucky, the pommel stone of Mehrunes' Razor might just fall into her hands. Not to mention that she might just have acquired a more powerful supporter against Astrid than a half-mad jester...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked it - this one was mostly setup but it's setup for some great possibilities.
> 
> M'inyeen is from the Irish for my daughter and Slanta is based on traditional Irish toast slainte. Jenever is gin by any other name.
> 
> Next chapter is Forsworn internal politics and the beginning of a reborn Brotherhood/Forsworn Auld Alliance...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madanach unveils the first part of his plans to take back the Reach to Liriel, and while she does believe him, it's always wise to get outside verification of these things. That's if she can actually trust the outside verification, of course.

Druadach Redoubt turned out to be a huge cavern built into the mountain, holes in the roof letting the light in, moonlight pouring in and pooling on to the ground. The ground itself rose up towards the back of the cavern, with three levels, each one with Forsworn tents pitched and stockades at the base of each tier, even trees growing there, and a small pool of water at the foot of the cave. There was even a small crop farm and grain mill, and a goat running up to her, butting against her and bleating. 

“She likes you,” Madanach laughed as Liriel scritched it behind the ears.

“She's lovely!” Liriel smiled. “I never had you lot down as the pet owner types.”

“We're not, she's a working goat and valuable member of the camp,” said Madanach, rubbing the goat's back briefly before moving on. “Blame my daughter for the ridiculously sentimental name.”

Liriel rubbed the animal's back, idly wondering which daughter. Kaie? Or Eithne while she'd lived here? She didn't think the same goat would have survived two decades, but she was beginning to realise the King in Rags had a very long memory.

She followed him up towards the back of the cave, nodding in acknowledgement to the Forsworn she knew, those that were still up, and exchanging nervous glances with the ones she didn't. Still, no one reached for a weapon – it seemed Madanach's approval was sufficient to get her a free pass.

Madanach's tent was of course on the top tier, also home to a forge, a huge cage and the campfire and kitchen. Two tents, one big one with what looked like an elk's skull and ribcage mounted on top, presumably Madanach's, and a smaller one, but one still bigger than the others she'd seen around the place. Kaie was sitting inside it, presumably preparing for bed. She glanced knowingly up at Liriel and grinned.

“Sleeping up here tonight, are we? Thought you might. Just keep the noise down, OK? Some of us are trying to sleep over here.”

“I'll... try,” said Liriel, feeling a little uncertain as to just what Kaie meant by that, but if she wanted to sleep, Liriel could certainly make sure she wasn't disturbed.

Madanach growled in his daughter's direction. “Don't you have any work to be getting on with?”

“It's midnight, nearly,” Kaie shot back. “You know, the time normal people are meant to go to bed?”

“I don't care, something important's come up,” said Madanach, casting a magelight over a nearby table with a map on it and indicating for Liriel to take the sole chair. “And no it can't wait until morning,” he added, retrieving another from his tent and bringing it up to the table.

Kaie just rolled her eyes and reached for the flaps on her tent. “And he complains about his sleep cycles,” she muttered, tersely closing the entrance and retreating to bed.

“I hadn't realised it was that late,” said Liriel guiltily. “Are you sure this can't wait until morning? I don't want to keep you up.”

“Sithis, don't you start, I have enough to put up with what with Kaie nagging me. I swear she's turning into her mother more and more every day.” Madanach indicated the map in front of her, a map of what was clearly the Reach, and several locations dotted around it.

“Rather you didn't share this with anyone else,” said Madanach gruffly. “This is all our camps in the Reach. They operate mostly independently under their camp commander's control, and aside from this one and a few of the smaller ones nearby, they're all under the command of a Matriarch or a Briar Heart controlled by one.”

Hagravens and Briar Hearts. Liriel knew what Hagravens were – once a female mage reached a certain level of power, a bargain could be struck, a sacrifice made, and although a significant portion of your soul and your humanity would be gone, you'd be immensely powerful magically. She'd not read up on the details of how this worked and didn't plan to. The idea held very little appeal. As for Briar Hearts, she'd fought a few. Men with their hearts removed and a mysterious Briar Heart placed there instead, the gaping chest wound still visible. Reanimated corpses by any other name? Or something else? Liriel didn't know.

“Is that... important?” she asked. Well of course it was or he wouldn't be telling her, but what she didn't know was why.

“Ever read the Legend of Red Eagle?” said Madanach, not looking at her. “It tells of our greatest ever leader, a fierce warrior who fought off the Empire, Faolan the Red Eagle, first Lord of the Reach, the first to unite us. Before that, we were always fighting amongst ourselves, easy prey. He was a great leader, a mighty warrior but he made one mistake. He made a deal with the Hagravens, took great power, but at a terrible cost. He let them take his heart and replace it with one of Briar, and from that day until the day he died, he was never his own man again. He was the first, but many have made that same deal since, or had their bodies resurrected with Briar Hearts. They are fierce warriors, very powerful mages, but they answer to the Matriarch that made them. We respect the Hags' power, of course we do. But to surrender entirely to one? No. I will never be making that particular bargain, and so you have Druadach Redoubt as one of the few places not led by either a Matriarch or her servant. That in a nutshell is my problem.”

Liriel recalled his words of earlier and realised that perhaps the King in Rags wasn't anything like as powerful as his title suggested. 

“The Hags won't listen to you?” Liriel asked, beginning to realise why he could only guarantee her safety at his own camp.

“The Hags serve the old gods, they're not going to pay attention to a mere mortal,” said Madanach, looking at her shrewdly, beginning to smile. “But the Shrouded Lady, the Hag of Hags, they'd have to pay attention to her. More precisely, to her followers.”

“You want me to negotiate with the Hagravens. But Madanach, they'd kill me on sight!” Liriel cried. 

“Not negotiate,” said Madanach, face shadowed in the magelight. “I want my people back, Liriel, and for that, someone is going to have to die.”

A contract then. Liriel went very still, the sound of her heart thudding in her chest almost impossibly loud in the silence.

“All of them?” she whispered. Madanach just laughed. 

“No, just one or two will be enough. Just enough to set an example to the others, I imagine the rest will fall into line after that. Here, let me talk you through the various camps and factions, it'll help you understand. There's four factions, other than me. There's the North faction, headed by Matriarch Keirine, based up at Deepwood Redoubt. The fort itself is run by Keirine's Briar Heart, but Keirine has a coven at Hag's End, deep within the fortress, where she does magical research and trains the next generation of mages and Matriarchs. She also oversaw the smaller camps at Bruca's Leap and Dragon Bridge Overlook, and this place until I got here, but never used Briar Hearts to run them.”

“Keirine,” Liriel whispered, remembering the name. “She's the one who told you to break out now or you never would, that the stars were right.”

“She did,” Madanach replied, nodding in approval. “She must have known the Night Mother had called a new Listener, and foreseen that Listener ending up in Cidhna Mine. She's a smart one, Keirine.”

“She's not who you want me to kill, is she?” Liriel asked nervously. Madanach looked up at that, appalled at the very idea.

“No! Anu, no, don't you dare, she's on my side, about the only Hag I trust. She was my twin sister once. Anything you ever want from Hag's End, you come talk to me first, I'll get you what you need. That place is of great strategic importance to all of us. And like I said, she used to control this place, Bruca's Leap and Dragon Bridge Overlook, but once I broke out, she ceded them to me. She's a Hag of the old school, believes the war and the politics are the business of the Reach-King or Queen, not the Hags. She leads Deepwood because someone has to, but she always preferred her research to politics.”

So not Keirine then. Noted. Liriel looked at the map, beginning to understand some of the lines and symbols now. A wavy line separated the northern camps from the others, running from Dragon Bridge Overlook down the Karth then striking west and running just south of Markarth. By Druadach Redoubt was a crudely drawn crown. Home of the Reach-King that was and will be again.

“All this is territory nominally loyal to you,” she breathed, beginning to get it. Madanach nodded.

“Correct. There's Kolskeggr Mine here, biggest gold mine in the Reach. Was the Silver-Bloods', now it's mine. We've got to fund all this somehow, and now skimming silver ore from Cidhna Mine and smuggling it out is no longer an option, we needed an alternative. So Nepos and I decided to overrun Kolskeggr before the breakout happened.”

“Nepos the Nose,” Liriel said, remembering that note she'd found on Weylin. She'd been meaning to call on him after her ill-fated visit to Thonar Silver-Blood, but after finding out from Thonar that Madanach was behind all the murders, she'd run straight back to the Shrine of Talos to tell Eltrys – and run straight into the guards standing over his body. “He's your man in Markarth.”

“Yes, he and I go way back,” said Madanach fondly. “We've got agents all over the city and luckily for us, Briar Hearts and Matriarchs tend to attract the wrong sort of attention there. So Nepos runs the show in Markarth, and effectively that city is mine. With a bit of time to put the arrangements in place, I could depose the Jarl and take it over whenever I liked.”

“So why haven't you?” Liriel countered. 

“Because I'd never get to keep it,” Madanach sighed. “Learnt that the first time around. We could have held that city against all comers, but the Empire was determined, the Jarl was determined, and the Silver-Bloods betrayed us as soon as the Great War ended. We still might have held – if the Hags of the south hadn't decided it was a lost cause and ordered their camps to stay put.”

“You mean half the Forsworn didn't even fight?” Liriel gasped, horrified. Madanach inclined his head in confirmation.

“Correct. It's almost as if the Hags don't want us to have a kingdom of our own, isn't it? But I'm sure that can't be right, and I'm very sure that actually having to be answerable to the law as citizens instead of doing whatever they feel like in their own little fiefdoms is a price they'd be happy to pay. Of course.”

“Of course,” Liriel echoed, beginning to see why the comparison with Astrid had been such an apt one. “Never mind the Nords, you've got to deal with your own people first.”

“You see what I mean about it taking years to organise the Forsworn into a united faction again,” Madanach sighed. “Took long enough the first time. I don't have those years, Liriel, I've got a decade left in me and maybe a few years more, but no longer than that.” He looked up at her, beginning to smile again, a crafty, devious smile that unnerved Liriel as much as it delighted her. “At least, I didn't until you turned up, Queen of Dragons.”

Liriel wasn't sure she liked the sound of that.

“I hope to Sithis you're going to pay me for all this,” said Liriel tersely. “And while I'm willing to off Hagravens for you, there's an awful lot of Forsworn around them willing to die to protect them. That's my problem, Madanach! I'd like to help, but do you really want me cutting a bloody hole into your own people just to eliminate your enemies?”

“Why not, I've been doing it for years,” Madanach growled. Then he sighed and seemed to relent. “All the same, the violence is getting to me and I can't afford to throw away any more of my people. I need them to trust me or it'll be damn impossible to hold on to anything worthwhile. Liriel, I'd like to be able to write and tell everyone you're one of us, to let you through unhindered, I really would, but if I need you to kill certain Hagravens who are being uncooperative, I can't be associated with that. A Forsworn man raising a hand to a Hag, even indirectly? It would ruin me. But Hagravens killing other Hagravens – now that's generally understood to be Hag business and we all stay out of it. We just wait until it's all over and rally round the winner.”

“Still not helping!” Liriel sighed, rubbing her forehead and craving sleep. “I'm not a Hagraven.”

“No. Not you yourself. But your leader is, in a way.” Madanach was staring at her, willing her to understand, and she was trying, she really was, but she had normal sleep cycles still and her brain was tired! Astrid, did he mean? No, not Astrid. The Night Mother. The Hag of Hags, Matriarch of Matriarchs, feared by all the Hagravens and revered by the Forsworn too as the conduit to Sithis, the promise the Dread Father had not abandoned them and that his aid could be sought.

“You're saying if I walk up there and announce myself as Listener, the Forsworn will just let me in,” she said. “They'll let me walk right up to their Matriarch and kill her?”

“Essentially, yes,” said Madanach, looking positively delighted at the idea. 

“But I walked past Broken Tower Redoubt in my Shrouded Armour and they attacked me on sight!” said Liriel, remembering having to deal with all sorts of resistance when she and Jenassa had gone to rescue Fjotra the Sybil from there.

“Yes, because you didn't give the right call-signs,” said Madanach. “Anyone can kill a Dark Brother and steal their armour, Liriel. There's a ritual to it, a call and response so they know you're genuinely the Night Mother's and not an impostor. Surprised your Sanctuary never taught you, but if what you've told me is true, it's quite possible the knowledge was lost years ago.”

“So tell me,” Liriel sighed, weary and tired of all the secrets. “You tell me how to announce myself as the true Listener, if you know all this.”

“I will,” Madanach promised, leaning closer, grey eyes staring intently in to hers. “I will teach you everything your brothers and sisters have forgotten.” He was smiling, a hungry, predatory smile as he reached out a hand to her face, fingers gently skimming her cheek as they ran through her hair, and Liriel seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. All she knew was that she was shaking all over, afraid, very afraid but not wanting it to stop either.

“Madanach,” she whispered, suddenly very very nervous. 

“Dragon-Queen?” he murmured, sly grin not letting up for a second. 

“Can we do this in the morning?” she asked, backing away from him. “I – I think I need to sleep first. I can't take any more in right now. I'm sorry.”

Madanach's smile vanished as he narrowed his eyes, looking carefully at her. Then he nodded and let her go, backing off. Liriel sighed with relief, finally able to breathe properly again. She didn't consider herself a weakling in any sense but around Madanach, she always felt off-balance somehow. Constantly wrong-footed. She was a pure-bred Altmer of impeccable family while he was some scruffy barbarian human barely half her age, and yet around him she always felt like the powerless one. She should turn and run, get out of here, go back to running side contracts for Nazir and dealing with the war and trying to sort out the dragons, and never come near this place again. She was already feeling in way over her head, and what if he was playing her somehow? Using her for some nefarious purpose of his own? It was all too likely with this man.

“I've kept you up long enough, haven't I?” he said, leaning back and looking almost kind. “Go on, take my tent.”

“Where will you sleep?” Liriel asked, getting up. “You can't stay up all night.”

“No, but someone else will be on guard duty all night. I'll take their bed,” said Madanach with a shrug. “Anything to keep Kaie from nagging me.”

Now this was safer. Step back from that intensity of before and retreat into banal chit-chat about his family. 

“She just wants you to be healthy and happy,” Liriel told him. “She's worried about you.”

Madanach just grunted, scowling. He waved towards the big tent with the elk mounted on it. “Go on, get to bed. And before you ask why the elk skeleton, it's a tribute to worthy prey. Killed it myself many many years ago. Didn't even use magic. Part of my initiation into adulthood – could have just made an animal sacrifice like everyone else, but why take the easy route, hmm?” 

Liriel could quite believe that Madanach had been the sort of young man to despise something on principle precisely because everyone else was doing it. She crawled into the tent and was surprised to just see a pile of straw there with fur pelts flung over it. She'd expected a proper bed at least.

“That's what you sleep on?” she asked, surprised. She couldn't see Madanach from inside the tent but could almost sense him rolling his eyes.

“I'm very sorry if the Queen of Dragons doesn't find my accommodations entirely to her liking and would prefer a solid gold bed lined with hawk feathers and Khajiit fur instead, but believe it or not, I do have a war to fight and rather more pressing concerns?” he growled. 

“It's not that!” Liriel cried. “It's just you had a nicer bed than this in Cidhna Mine...”

Silence. For a second, Liriel wondered if she should have mentioned Cidhna Mine at all. Maybe it had brought back memories he'd rather forget. Then he finally spoke. 

“It's just somewhere to rest my head, Liriel, it's not like I'm entertaining a different woman every night.”

Liriel stretched out on the straw pile, feeling sorry for him. All this responsibility couldn't be easy for him, and though he seemed a lot happier than he had in prison, he still seemed lonely. His wife dead from the sounds of it, celibate all that time in prison (she presumed), and not exactly in any position to have a new lover here. There were some young women in the camp, but all around Kaie's age or younger and Liriel guessed even Madanach wasn't going to start ordering women that young to his bed. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if she should go and comfort him, but then she remembered him touching her face and leaning closer with that hungry smile, and that brought up all sorts of fears she'd rather not deal with. 

“Maybe if you got a decent bed, that might change,” she called out, deliberately keeping her tone light and easy. That did get a laugh from him.

“I think the effort might kill me,” Madanach laughed. “I don't need a harem, Liriel, just one would do.”

“Bet she'd still appreciate a decent bed,” Liriel called, snuggling in amongst the furs. Truth be told it was already quite comfy. Not luxurious, but comfy. It would however only really sleep one. If Madanach ever did find a lover, he'd not be able to sleep next to her in this. It occurred to Liriel maybe he'd never expected or intended to find one ever again, and for some reason that saddened her. Everyone should have a shot at happiness, and Madanach didn't have the hundreds of years that she did to find it. 

_Lady Mara, if he can't have his kingdom, at least find him someone to love. If he has to live in exile, at least find him someone to share it with._

No response but there never was. She'd leave it in Mara's hands. She didn't know if the Forsworn believed in Mara, but even they fell in love.

“I will think about it,” Madanach called back. “Now Dragon-Queen, if you are quite done complaining and prying into my personal life, are you going to go to sleep?”

Liriel closed her eyes, pulling furs over her head. “Goodnight, Madanach,” she said, feeling sleep overcome her. She'd dozed off in seconds, never hearing the reply.

“Goodnight, Queen of Dragons,” Madanach murmured, closing his eyes, bittersweet smile on his face. He was tired, actually, a lot more tired than he'd let on and it had been adrenaline keeping him going, the sheer excitement of Sithis' conduit still being open and Night's Children still being able to honour the Auld Alliance. Granted, it was just one assassin. But when that assassin was the Voice of the Night Mother, and the Voice of Dragons, and a very talented mage, and a beautiful woman on top of all that? Sithis had answered his prayers all right, and tomorrow would see the sun rise on a new era for the Forsworn.

“Hail Sithis,” he whispered, getting up and going in search of a bed. Soon, soon, the Forsworn would be his again. And if in the process he found himself also in possession of a beautiful Altmer in his bed and not expecting him to sleep anywhere but by her side, that would be a very happy bonus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It was mid-afternoon by the time Liriel left the Redoubt the next day, declining Madanach's offer of another night there. It was clear to all he'd not slept well the night before, and Liriel had had to have a quiet word with Kaie as to if there was any reason they couldn't find a proper bed for him. Kaie had agreed he needed one, it was just getting the stubborn old fool to admit it. Well, at least he'd said he'd think about it. Liriel was coming to realise that was the nearest she was going to get to an admission she might be right.

Then had come the instruction on how to enter a Forsworn camp without the entire population descending on her, which had proven as simple as clenching one's fists and holding them to her shoulders. Something which when she realised most Forsworn associated an open palm with the casting of Destruction magic made perfect sense. There was also a ritual invocation but Madanach had also said that the words could be tweaked if necessary, so not critical to memorise it all. 

Finally, once he was convinced she had it down, he let her go, walking her to the outside and seeing her off. To her surprise, he actually hugged her, before dropping arms to his sides and standing back, waiting while she mounted her horse. 

“Fight well,” he called to her. 

“If you taught me well, I'm hoping I won't have to,” she shouted back. He'd smiled at that.

“Kill well, then. Come back here when you're done, I'll have some coin for your trouble.”

He didn't need to pay her, she'd have helped him anyway. But the coin was nice and maybe it was for the best they kept this somewhat professional. Besides, she wasn't sure yet if this was going to work. True, Madanach had given her details of a small camp called Blind Cliff Cave, independent from any of the main Forsworn factions and run by two feuding Hagraven sisters called Melka and Petra, supposedly easy to escape from if it all went south. A little test run as it were. All the same, before she walked into a Forsworn camp and announced her arrival, Liriel wanted some outside confirmation that all was as Madanach had told her. Not that she didn't trust him, but she'd be a fool not to look into things first. So she needed assistance. Specifically, she needed a young Reach native with clear skills in both magic and the blade, one not linked to Madanach but who might well have got her training with the Forsworn. She knew the perfect person.

The Shrine of Namira wasn't any less dank and gloomy, but at least they'd cleared up the blood since her last visit. Eola was there, sitting at the head of the table, looking like a queen on her throne despite being a full five inches shorter than Liriel. Mercifully she wasn't eating, just reading and drinking some sort of red liquid from a wineglass. Liriel hoped it was only wine, although with Eola one could never tell.

Despite Liriel's boots not making a sound on the stone floor, Eola looked up, smiling as she saw Liriel there.

“Why hello there, Keeper of the Ring. It's been a while, how've you been?” She took one look at the Shrouded Armour Liriel was wearing and raised an eyebrow. “You're in the Dark Brotherhood now? My my, you are going up in the world! How... _delicious_.”

Liriel shivered a little as she took a seat next to Namira's priestess. Cannibalism was in no way a respectable pastime for a well-bred Altmer lady, but there was a seductive, predatory charm to Eola and next thing Liriel knew, she'd been luring a priest of Arkay back here, killing him and eating his still-warm corpse. She'd carved off a slice and cooked it with a Flames spell first of course, she wasn't a savage or anything. All the same, after that little escapade, joining the Dark Brotherhood hadn't really presented many ethical challenges.

“I wasn't when we last met,” said Liriel, focusing on a bloodstain on the table. “Don't get too excited about it, I'm not exactly high-ranked.” _But you should be, Listener,_ a little voice whispered in the back of her head. _You should be giving orders to them all._

“Even so, that you took the Shrouds at all...” Eola breathed. “All the blood, all the death! Why, I tried to join myself a few years ago, you know. Did the Sacrament and everything, waited for someone to show... and waited... and waited. No one ever turned up. Of course, perhaps the fact I nibbled on the man's liver beforehand had something to do with it. What do you think, Liriel?”

“Honestly, I think they missed out,” said Liriel, having to admit that Eola was as fierce and predatory as they came. “You'd have made an excellent assassin.”

Eola grinned, looking very pleased with herself. She put her book, a copy of the Book of Daedra, to one side and turned to Liriel. 

“So, Champion of Namira. What brings you here? Did you want another taste? You are looking a little pale, I can tell it's been a while since you last had a decent meal.”

“I'm fine,” said Liriel, hastily shutting that line of conversation right down. “It was actually information I wanted.”

“Information, eh?” Eola purred. “Well, I have to confess, I'm not one to keep up with all the gossip. But if you tell me what you want to know, I'll see if I can help.”

Liriel nodded and clenched her fists, raising them to her shoulders in the Forsworn gesture of non-hostility.

“What does this gesture mean to you?” she asked. Eola's eyes widened and Liriel knew right then she'd guessed correctly about Eola's background.

“I'd say it means you've been running with the Forsworn,” said Eola, fascinated, her curiosity caught. “Now that's interesting, that they taught an outsider that. Oh, but I don't suppose you're really an outsider, are you? Not now you joined up with the other Sithis worshipping murdering fanatics.”

“I knew it,” Liriel breathed. “You're a Forsworn! Or, well, you used to be.”

“Once,” Eola agreed. “A long time ago. I grew up near here on Karthspire Camp. That'd be the one you and your friends tore through the other week. Oh don't worry,” she said, laughing at Liriel's guilty expression. “I picked through the bodies afterwards – only person I might have cried over wasn't there. The Forsworn mortality rate is quite high, I think most of the people I knew died some time ago. I just have one question. Was it you who killed their Matriarch?”

Liriel sighed and confessed. If Eola wanted revenge, she'd likely have taken it by now.

“Yes. It was me. Fireball duel then I finished her off with a lightning bolt.”

Of all the reactions she'd thought she might get, she'd not expected Eola to clap her hands, squeal in delight, get up and run round the table to give Liriel a hug.

“Oh you marvellous, brutal, murdering fiend, you!” Eola laughed. “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for killing the controlling bitch. She's the reason I left. Hit my sixteenth birthday, decided I'd had enough of the lectures on how I was insufficiently committed to the cause, and ran away. Got myself initiated into adulthood on my own terms and never looked back.”

Eola perched herself on the bench next to Liriel, looking very pleased with herself. Liriel began to wonder if she'd been the best choice for assistance, but at least Eola wasn't likely to tell anyone else. Eola, by her own admission and for blatantly obvious reasons, preferred to keep a low profile and pass through life unremembered later.

“And what was your commitment to the cause like, Eola?” Liriel asked. “Do you actually want an independent Reach or do you just not care any more?”

Sadness crept into Eola's eyes, sadness and a fair hint of bitterness, and that was most unlike her. Eola very rarely had regrets about anything. 

“My oldest sister died when I was five – the Nords killed her,” said Eola quietly. “They got my Da at the same time, my strong, proud, brave warrior of a father. I don't remember a lot about him, but I know he loved me dearly. Then he was gone. A few years after that, my next oldest sister died – I'd wandered off and got lost, she'd come out to find me and that's when the mercenaries attacked. She told me to run and fought them off, and she was good, but she was outnumbered and only fifteen. They hacked her to death and I couldn't do a damn thing. I was there for hours, clutching her body, cold, alone, afraid, hungry, crying my eyes out. In the end, I was so hungry I took a bite.”

So Eola's seduction speech had been at least partly autobiographical. Liriel suspected as much.

“They found me eventually, and I told them it had been a fox taking bites out of her, but I'm not sure Ma believed me. She was never the same again. When I approached sixteen, Ma was very clear that I had a choice – either join the fight like my third sister, or get married to continue the line. Needless to say, I said no to both and left. Liriel, don't get me wrong,” Eola sighed. “It's not that I don't agree and it's not even that I don't care. I'd love an independent Reach again. But it's never going to happen in my lifetime and I'm not throwing my life away in a pointless struggle that's never really stopped since Tiber Septim's day.”

“It's not pointless,” said Liriel, fighting the anger that was rising at Eola's dismissive words. “It's only pointless if we give up. I refuse to believe the Forsworn cause is doomed.”

“We?” said Eola, staring right into her eyes. “It's 'we', is it now? Sweet Namira, Liriel, what in Oblivion have you got yourself mixed up in now? I know you're Brotherhood but the Auld Alliance hasn't functioned in over a hundred years. And even when it did, please don't think it was more than a mutually beneficial trade and training agreement. The Dark Brotherhood were never ideologically committed to freedom for the Reach, any more than the Forsworn were prepared to kill just anyone unless it fitted with their own plans. Look, if you've been seconded out to the Forsworn, or even if they've just hired you for a contract, don't make it more than it is. Just do the job, get paid, get out, that's my advice.”

“You cynical bitch,” Liriel said softly, thinking of Madanach's delight as she'd told him she was Listener, and the barely concealed glee in his eyes ever since. Something about seeing him so happy had made her happy too, and for Eola to just dismiss everything Madanach believed in, just like that, felt like a slap in the face.

“Guilty as charged,” said Eola cheerfully. “What? Don't look at me like that, you know what I'm like by now. All I care about is my next meal.”

“There's more to life than the hunt!” Liriel cried, throwing her hands up in frustration.

“Is there?” Eola asked, eyebrow raised. Liriel fought back the urge to slap her.

“Look, do you want in on this job or not?” she hissed. Eola grinned at that, crossing her legs and settling in to listen.

“So there is a job then. Let me guess, the Forsworn have hired you to kill someone they can't get to themselves. Who is it?”

“Let's just say there are a few internal dissensions within the Forsworn with regards to policy,” Liriel said delicately. “And that a certain high-ranking member of the Forsworn is rapidly losing patience with this state of affairs and has retained me to deal with some of said dissenters, namely other high-ranking members of the Forsworn. Apparently if my client does it directly, all Oblivion will break loose, but if the Brotherhood do it, with no link back to said client, my client can then move in and clean up the mess, take their camps over and with any luck the rest will fall into line.”

“Cunning,” said Eola thoughtfully. “Well, I may be able to help. Perhaps. I don't suppose you're prepared to tell me who your client is, are you?”

“No,” said Liriel pointedly. “Honestly Eola, I'm a _professional._ ”

“Pity,” said Eola, shrugging. “I'm just wondering who is high-ranked enough to want to do all this, but not high-ranked enough to take on a Hag and survive politically. Can't be a Briar Heart, they don't have the imagination.” She smiled sweetly, resting an elbow on the table and propping her head up. “Never mind. I'm sure you'll tell me in good time. I'm allowed to know the target at least, hmm?”

“A Hagraven called Petra at Blind Cliff Cave,” Liriel told her. “She's imprisoned her sister Melka, and M- my client thinks that if we pay Melka a visit and offer to deal with her sister, she might be persuaded to back our client in return.”

“Hags. I knew it,” said Eola, grinning. “Count me in on this one, Liriel. I just have one question. You said this might not be the only job, and honestly, if I was in charge of a number of Forsworn camps and was looking to consolidate my hold on the rest, Blind Cliff Cave would barely figure in my plans.”

“That's not a question,” said Liriel, wondering what on earth was going on in the girl's head.

“No, it's not. My question is – these targets. Would the King in Rags be among them? Madanach?”

Liriel's breath caught in her throat, heart pounding, world going into slow motion at the mere thought of Madanach dying. _Never, no never, he's my friend, he's one of us, I'd take my own life before I'd take his._

“No,” Liriel rasped, her throat going dry. “No, we're not going after him.”

Eola closed her eyes, smiling as if at some secret only she knew. Opening them, she sat up, shook herself down and got to her feet.

“Then I'm in.” She held out a hand to Liriel, smiling at her. “Shall we?”

Liriel nodded mutely, not at all sure what had just happened there, but something had shifted in the wind and she had the uncanny feeling Eola had guessed who the client was.

“Let's get going,” Liriel said hastily. “We've got some Hagravens to sort out.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blind Cliff Cave job goes without a hitch, but an unexpected offer from Markarth's Jarl leads Liriel to move on to bigger targets... with unexpected consequences for Madanach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for unashamed cannibalism on Eola's part

Blind Cliff Cave was a fair hike from Reachcliff, and the journey wasn't helped by Eola guiltily tugging at Liriel's sleeve and asking if she could wear the Shrouded Armour instead.

“I don't want them seeing my face!” she pleaded. “I might run into someone I used to know! Please, Liriel?”

“It will never fit you!” Liriel protested, but gave in. She changed into her Shrouded Robes and Eola took the armour. Various belts and buckles had to be adjusted and the legs rolled up, but it fit in the end. Sort of.

“It's too tight!” Eola wailed.

“I cannot help it if you're fat, Eola,” Liriel hissed, drawing a buckle in.

“I am not fat!” Eola shouted. “Just because you're preternaturally skinny! Seriously, what is it with you Altmer anyway? Does all that extra magicka eat up your muscle mass?”

“That extra magicka will be eating up yours if you don't stop whining,” Liriel muttered. “There, you're done. And you had better be able to fight in that, because if this goes to the Void, I will be wanting back-up, especially as that's my only proper armour. You just be grateful I'm a mage.”

“So am I, I consider my mage armour up to the job,” Eola said pointedly.

“Oh, be quiet, we're here,” Liriel said, taking a deep breath, casting her mage armour and trying to remember all Madanach had taught her. Fists clenched, to the shoulder. Breathe, Liriel, breathe.

Eola at her back, she walked in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

First person she came across was a Forsworn sentry, standing idly around – or at least he was until he saw her.

“Hey! You'll regret facing the Forsworn!” he cried, axes raised – and then he saw both the robes and the clenched fists and hesitated. 

“Greetings in the name of the old gods,” Liriel said, trying not to sound nervous. “I am here in the name of Sithis, seeking the Matriarch Melka.”

Slowly, the sentry lowered his weapons, gulping.

“She – she's Matriarch no more, but – but she's here. I mean, in the tower. Did Petra send for you?” He caught Liriel's raised eyebrow and looked away, skin flushed, and Liriel realised he was awfully young in human terms. 

“No, no, I suppose I shouldn't ask, should I?” he said quickly. “Bad luck to ask – go on through. Just keep going up – she's the one in the cage. Er... hail Sithis!” Sheathing his weapons, he darted to one side, fists clenched and eyes rooted to the ground. Liriel merely nodded her thanks and swept on in like a proper Altmer lady, Eola following silently in her wake.  
It was the same all the way through the castle, Forsworn leaping out, taking one look at the robes and seeing Liriel's clenched fists, and backing off, hearing her say she was here for Melka in the name of Sithis and immediately waving her through.

Finally, they found Melka, sitting in a cage. The Hag looked up at the robes, eyes wide.

“No, no, not like this!” she screeched. “I did not call on the Dread Father, I did not call the Ascended One! Tell me it is not me you have come for!”

“It is you I came for,” Liriel purred, gliding over in her Shrouded Shoes. “But not to kill you – not if you listen to my proposal.”

Melka seized on the chance, looking hopeful. “A proposal, a proposal, yes, Melka shall listen. Melka will help the pretty flesh if she will help Melka, yes? Melka would not wish to offend the Dread Father, no. I just want my tower back and my treacherous sister dead!”

Liriel leaned closer, hiding her revulsion behind a cruel little smile. “It can be arranged, Melka. For a price.”

“A price, a price, yes, I have a staff, the Eye of Melka, yours if you kill Petra, yes!” Melka cried, grin revealing yellowed teeth as she rattled the bars of the cage. “Now let me out!”

“No,” said Liriel softly. “I have another price.”

Melka hissed, glaring at her. “The Shrouded Meat is a hard bargainer. Very well, tell me. I just want my tower, I care little for anything else.”

“You can have your tower,” said Liriel. “You can do whatever magical research or rituals you want in it. But those soldiers, guarding you, your Forsworn warriors – those are what I'm after.”

“What??” Melka screeched, rustling her feathers. “Why would you want them? Recruits? The Auld Alliance died years ago, Shrouded Morsel. The Forsworn have a war to fight.”

“Yes, they do,” said Liriel, feeling her adrenaline build. “But not under your command. They can stay here, guarding this place, but they won't be serving you. Pledge yourself and them to the King in Rags, Melka. Swear an oath that when Madanach needs those warriors, they'll march to his side.”

Melka's eyes widened, then she backed off, claws raised, shrieking in outrage.

“Him! That boy! That cursed boy! He who thinks he's the equal of a Hag! He doesn't deserve the title King, not when he's been hiding in a cave for the last twenty years!”

“He was not _hiding!_ ” Liriel snarled, raising her hands, flame magic at the ready. “He is the rightful leader of the Forsworn, the true Lord of the Reach, the Reach-King that was and will be again! And you will serve him, Melka, or I shall take this offer to your sister instead and see if she's any more receptive!”

“Tssss!” Melka hissed, flinging herself against the bars of the cage. “How dare he! How dare the upstart call in the Dark Brotherhood against his rightful mistresses! Treacherous, deceitful, son of a skeever – ack!”

The lightning bolt flew narrowly past Liriel's head and just over Melka's shoulder. Liriel turned to see Eola there, smoke rising from her hand and eyes narrowed.

“Do you mind?” Liriel snapped. “A little discipline for once?” Eola muttered something and relented, arms folded and looking mutinous.

“Don't tell me you don't want Petra dead,” Liriel said, calling on the honeyed words that had served her so well in Altmer high society. “Don't tell me you wouldn't have called us in yourself if you'd had the chance. Madanach doesn't want to start murdering Matriarchs, he just wants them to ensure that his warriors are ready when he needs them. You can use them for whatever you like in the mean time. Doesn't that sound like a good deal?”

“It is a coward's bargain,” Melka hissed scornfully. “Madanach is too afraid to face me himself!”

Liriel shrugged and prepared to walk off. She'd tried. She could always kill both Hagravens if she had to. Madanach wouldn't mind either way.

“Come on,” she said to Eola. “We're going to talk to Petra. I'm sure she'll be very interested indeed to hear that Melka called the Sacrament down on her.”

“WAIT!” Melka cried. “Morsel, wait!”

Liriel stopped, suppressing a smile. She knew she'd won right there.

“I... just want my tower back,” Melka growled. “Fine, fine, let me out, if you help me kill Petra, you can tell the arrogant brat he'll have no trouble from me. He can call the warriors up whenever he needs them. Just as long as I am left alone in my tower, free to pluck eyeballs, tasty eyeballs!”

“Sweet Namira, even I don't eat the eyeballs,” Eola muttered. Liriel hushed her and turned back to Melka.

“Done. I'll let you out. Go back on your word, and I'll be back to kill you personally,” Liriel said, reaching for the cage release. The door opened and Melka scuttled out, grinning.

“Understood, understood, the Shrouded Flesh shall have no trouble from me,” Melka cackled, rubbing her claws together. “Now, let us kill my treacherous sister!”

They went on to do just that, Forsworn seeing Melka free and the Dark Brotherhood in their wake and melting into the shadows as they passed. At the top of the tower, a quick battle ensued and although Petra was powerful, she was outnumbered. Finally, she lay dead, charred remains lying in a heap on the floor.

“Dead! Dead! To the Void with you, dead sister!” Melka screeched at the body. The two Forsworn in the chamber were already on their knees.

“You will honour your promise?” Liriel asked, hands on her hips. Melka nodded.

“Yes, yes. Tell him he has my gratitude,” Melka growled, a little surly but seemingly acquiescent. It would do.

“And the other promise?” Liriel asked, holding out her hand. Maybe Madanach was paying her anyway, but a bonus was always nice.

“Yes, the Eye of Melka,” Melka said, grimacing, opening up a secret compartment in the wall an producing a Forsworn-made staff, handing it over. “Kill something pretty with it.”

Liriel said she would and took her leave. It was only once they'd got out of the tower and down the road that Eola ripped the cowl off and sank to her knees, hands clutching at her head.

“Eola?” Liriel asked, worried. “Are – are you all right?” Eola really didn't look it, and Liriel couldn't think what might have got to her. Eola was not a woman with a weak stomach by any stretch of the imagination.

“You're really working for him, aren't you?” Eola's voice was almost a whisper, but Liriel's sensitive Elven hearing caught the words. “Madanach. The King in Rags.”

No sense keeping it secret any more. “Yes,” Liriel admitted. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“Problem?!” Eola looked up and to Liriel's surprise, Eola looked delighted, huge smile on her face. “Void, no! Do you have any idea who you've teamed up with??”

“Well, he's the leader of the Forsworn,” said Liriel, puzzled. “Used to be Reach-King until the Nords overthrew him, and he wants his country back. I do know all this, Eola.”

“Not like a Reachwoman, you don't,” said Eola, getting to her feet. “Liriel, everyone's got a King in Rags story to tell. The man is a legend! They say he can shoot hawks from 200 feet away with his shock magic.”

This was true – Liriel had seen him do that very thing.

“They say he's so good at Illusion spells, he once got cornered by fifteen Nord mercenaries on his own and got away by getting them to start hacking into each other,” Eola was enthusing, eyes alive with excitement. “They say he's as cunning as a fox, they say he fights like a sabre cat, they say he's Red Eagle come again. He was the first in years to get us all united properly again, to start planning for an uprising and taking advantage of the Great War to kick the Nords out. Even when they took the city back, he got away, stayed on the run for five years nearly, always one step ahead. Then they caught him and locked him away for twenty damn years, but now they say he's back. That he broke out and rained blood and death on the streets of Markarth and he's still as strong as ever and didn't go mad or anything.”

Liriel thought of Cicero, alone for eight years at Cheydinhal, going mad in silence while he waited for a Listener, and then Madanach, shut away entirely for twice that time and still coming out fighting, and while Madanach could hardly be said to be a saint, one thing he definitely wasn't was insane.

“He's still strong and he's not crazy,” Liriel said, smiling. “Want to meet him? I can take you to his camp – he's not fond of outsiders, but you were a Forsworn too, I'm sure he'd be happy to welcome you back – Eola?”

She'd gone pale, her smile fading. 

“No,” she said quickly. “No, I can't, I'm sorry, I can't. Liriel, please, you mustn't tell him about me, promise you won't say a word!”

“Er... OK?” Liriel said, confused at how Eola could go from hero-worshipping him to terrified in seconds. “Why not?”

“Because I ran away,” Eola said quietly. “I'm a deserter, Liriel. You don't know what he does to deserters – he may or may not catch them but if he ever finds them again... it's not good. I can't... I can't face him, Liriel. Not the King in Rags. I know he's been in prison most of my life, I doubt he'd know who I was to look at me, but... please, Liriel. I'm not sure I could handle it if he turned on me.”

Well, that would explain quite why Eola had been so paranoid about being recognised. All the same, Liriel had to wonder if maybe the woman was overreacting just a bit. Still, she also had to admit Eola knew the Forsworn better than she did.

“All right, I won't tell him,” Liriel promised. “I'll make sure you get a cut of the gold though. Only fair.”

“No rush,” said Eola, linking arms with Liriel. “Come on, let's get back to Markarth. Be nice to have a night at the inn for once.”

Which Liriel would no doubt end up paying for but nevertheless, she'd been travelling all day, it was the early hours of the morning now and she didn't fancy making for Druadach Redoubt in the dark, especially not as her horse was back at Markarth stables. Back to Markarth it was then. She just hoped she didn't get too many comments about the last time she'd been there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Jarl wants to see you.”

Not the words Liriel wanted to hear from the guards, especially as last time she'd been here, she'd been arrested, imprisoned and escaped. 

“What about?” she asked, dreading the answer.

“Didn't say,” the guard shrugged. “Just said to tell you to pay him a visit if you came this way again.”

Well, they weren't arresting her, but all the same, Liriel felt uneasy.

“Think we should go?” Liriel murmured to Eola. Eola just shrugged.

“Up to you, it's you he wants to see. But if you were in trouble, I don't think he'd have taken a chance and let you walk in unmolested.”

A fair point. So Liriel decided to investigate. She could always cast a few Illusion spells and set the guards against each other if she had to.

It turned out to be the opposite of trouble. Jarl Igmund was feeling penitent and wished to apologise for her unjust treatment on her last visit.

“We had no idea Madanach was behind all those murders,” Igmund said, sounding genuinely heartfelt. “Thonar always assured me his spirit was utterly broken and he was half-mad due to the isolation. To know he was running the Forsworn from inside Cidhna Mine – but don't you worry. We'll find him and this time no one's getting in the way of him and a fast execution like the criminal he is.”

Liriel smiled sweetly, nodding politely. _We'll see about that, Igmund. The King in Rags is not for hunting by the likes of you._

“I have every confidence in you, my Jarl,” said Liriel smoothly. “I'm just glad the little misunderstanding over my involvement was cleared up.”

“Yes, I feel I owe you some recompense for that,” said Igmund, looking sheepish. “Especially due to all you've done for this Hold. Finding the Sybil of Dibella, helping young Muiri out with her ex-lover, helping get Calcelmo and Faleen together, helping get the Hall of the Dead re-opened, and Nepos the Nose speaks very highly of you, calls you a true friend to the Reach.”

“Do thank him for me,” Liriel purred. “He's such a lovely man.” She'd never actually laid eyes on the man personally, but she could see Madanach's influence at work there.

“I will do that,” Igmund promised. “But first, there's the matter of compensating you. There's room in my court for a new Thane. It's an honorary title mainly, but there's a few perks someone like you could make use of. You're already well-known throughout the Hold, but if you purchase a house from my Steward and take care of a little task for me, I'd be very glad to make you my Thane.”

Liriel wasn't entirely sure if Madanach was going to approve of this, but on the other hand, the perks sounded nice. She knew what a Thane was entitled to – the guards looking the other way for lesser offences, a shiny weapon from the armoury... and a housecarl. With Lydia watching her kids, Liriel could do with another bodyguard. 

“I'd be honoured,” she told him. “What's the job you want doing?”

“It's a tricky one,” said Igmund. “Many years ago, when my father was Jarl, he tried to stop the Forsworn. Tried to negotiate, establish a treaty. They refused and they killed him. Raerek, my uncle, got his body back here for burial and gave me his sword – but he couldn't bring the shield as well. The Forsworn took it, and they have it still, at the camp they call Hag Rock Redoubt. Liriel, if you were to find that shield, I'd make you my Thane.”

Hag Rock Redoubt. The camp she'd tried and failed to get the pommel stone from. How very fortuitous. She glanced at Eola, who nodded once. Excellent.

“I'll do it,” she promised. 

“I hope you will,” Igmund said softly. “That shield meant a lot to me. Those Forsworn bastards may have killed my father but I can at least get his relics home.”

Liriel smiled and took her leave, stopping only to hand over her entire coin purse to purchase Vlindrel Hall from Raerek and get some basic furnishings put in – just the hall, bedroom, kitchen and living room but that would do for now. She'd have to think about whether to move her girls here – but no. If her association with Madanach became known and she had to flee, or if the Forsworn Rebellion escalated and Madanach really did take the city, it was best if her girls were elsewhere, safe in Whiterun. Still, a base in the city was a useful thing to have, especially since she envisaged spending time here. A lot more time.

The house itself was up about three steep flights of stairs, a small Dwemer home overlooking the city gates. Inside was surprisingly homely, and as she began to cook for them both, in no way shape or form wanting Eola anywhere near her kitchen, she asked Eola if Madanach would disapprove of them treating Drascua as they had Petra.

“Disapprove? Are you kidding? Drascua's one of the biggest pains in the arse around,” Eola replied from where she was lounging in a nearby chair. “She runs Hag Rock herself, and it's a huge camp, one of the most heavily fortified anywhere. She's got a fair few Briar Hearts at other camps too. I don't think he'd mind at all, in fact I think you'd be doing him a service. Are you going after her then? You clearly knew her name without me or Igmund telling you. Is this something Madanach told you or is there a contract?”

“In a manner of speaking,” said Liriel. “Let's just say she has something a client of mine wants and is willing to pay good money for. Are you in?”

Eola raised the bottle of mead she'd helped herself to. “Oh absolutely, my friend. You can count me right in.”

Liriel smiled, turning back to her stew. Two clients satisfied in one easy job. This just got better and better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

In the end, it proved even easier than Blind Cliff Cave had been. The Forsworn had simply melted away before her, even the Briar Heart hesitating. The troll had been leashed and led away, and finally they'd cornered Drascua in front of a Word Wall, busy sacrificing some poor fool in a Soul Gem powered fire trap that she'd immediately turned on them. 

Eola had yelped and leapt to one side, summoning a Flame Atronach. Liriel had cast her mage armour and staggered back, warding with one hand, blasting lightning right back with the other, and then remembered she was in fact a Dragonborn.

One blast of Unrelenting Force later and the soul gems had fallen off their pedestals, Drascua was flying back into the wall and Eola was leaping forward, blasting away with fire magic at the unfortunate Hagraven.

Liriel raised her own hands and added lightning to Eola's fire. Drascua shrieked her last and finally succumbed to the onslaught. 

Liriel paused long enough to learn the word off the Word Wall and get that chanting out of her head, then she was searching the Hagraven. Finally she found it, the small black stone that was part of Mehrunes' Razor. 

“Got it!” she called out to Eola. “Eola, I got it! Eola?”

Eola had been ferreting around under the altar and retrieved a box from a secret compartment.

“Hags, all the same, you'd think they'd use some imagination,” Eola said, flipping it open and removing the Soul Gem keeping the contents fresh. Liriel came to look over her shoulder and immediately wished she hadn't. Three still-beating hearts were lying there in a pool of blood.

“Oh Sithis, are they...?” Liriel began, feeling queasy.

“Yep!” said Eola, grinning. “The hearts of her Briar Hearts, her means of controlling them. We destroy these, they die.”

“You're going to eat them, aren't you – Mara's mercy,” said Liriel, forcing herself to look away as Eola bit into one of them, blood spurting everywhere. 

“W'nt sh'm?” Eola asked, still chewing.

“Don't talk with your mouth full,” said Liriel, pointedly looking elsewhere. That shield had to be round here somewhere...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Igmund had been ecstatic to see the shield again and had had no problems making her Thane, presenting her with a nice Elven bow with a fire enchantment on it for her trouble. Liriel's archery was by no means as good as her magical skills, but it was good enough. She thanked him and left with Eola.

“Staying here tonight?” Eola asked. “We could get to know your new housecarl. They might be cute. They might be... tasty.” She was smiling that smile again, the seductive one that gave Liriel the shivers and that had had her doing the unthinkable once.

“No,” said Liriel firmly. “No eating my housecarls! Honestly, Eola, there are limits. Now, I'm going back to Druadach tonight. Are you coming too or are you still determined not to face Madanach?”

Eola's whole expression closed up at the mention of his name. 

“It's best for all of us if I don't go there,” she said. “There'd likely be a scene. It would be... unpleasant. If you're going there, you go alone. But I'll be back at the Shrine if you need me.”

Well, if that was her wish, Liriel wasn't going to force her. She reclaimed her Shrouded Armour back off Eola, said her goodbyes and retrieving her horse, rode north. Madanach awaited.

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Last time she'd been there, Druadach Redoubt had mostly been inside, with a small outside area behind the stockade where there was a fire and a tent and usually guards. Not this time. More tents had appeared outside the camp, and there must have been about five Forsworn milling around, none of whom she recognised. None of them recognised her either.

“First you, then all of the Reach!” cried one, racing towards her furiously. Liriel was back in her own Forsworn gear, but it didn't help her. Crying out, she clenched her fists in the Forsworn gesture of non-violence. Her attacker hesitated, but it was Kaie's voice ringing out from the stockade that saved her.

“Leave her, she's one of us!” Kaie cried. The Forsworn who'd been poised to kill lowered her weapons, confused.

“But Princess, she's an Altmer!”

“She's our Altmer,” said Kaie, gritting her teeth. “Trust me, the King will be less than pleased if you hurt her. Liriel, honey, there you are. Get inside, he's waiting for you.”

Liriel didn't stop to think, just racing for the Redoubt and safety.

“Kaie, what's happening, who are all these people?” she whispered. “Is there some sort of festival going on?”

“About to be!” Kaie laughed. “What in the name of Sithis did you get up to out there? Half the Reach just turned up to pledge loyalty!”

Two Hagravens dead. Eola making sure the Briar Hearts died too. Melka would take care of Blind Cliff Cave, but Drascua's camp would be leaderless now as would any controlled by her Briar Hearts, and Madanach would have had no warning whatsoever. In the absence of anyone else to take charge, it was clear the camps had panicked and immediately sent delegations to the King in Rags, asking for help.

Sure enough, two Forsworn warriors were standing on the top tier, speaking with Madanach. Kaie immediately grabbed Liriel and bundled her into a nearby tent, but the walls were thin and Madanach's voice in particular carried.

“You did the right thing coming here, both of you. Don't worry, I will do everything I can to help. I'll send people over to help sort your camps out. Fear not, this is not a judgement of Sithis on you.”

“But sir, they just... stopped!” one of them, a woman, cried. “One minute Liam and Padraig were walking around as normal, the next they just fell to the floor screaming and died! How can it not be a judgement of Sithis? Red Eagle Redoubt's the cultural heart of us all, for our Briar Hearts to just die like that can't be anything else!”

“Red Eagle was the first Briar Heart and at his old stronghold, the Briar Hearts there are the first to fall,” said Madanach thoughtfully. “I agree, it's a judgement of Sithis all right – but not on me or you. I think it's a sign that the road we walk is maybe not the right one. We've become too reliant on the Hags and not on our own power, so Sithis is undermining the Hags so we don't have a choice about changing.”

“But sir, if the Hags fail, what will become of us?” the other one asked, a man this time. “This was no divine judgement either, two Daughters of Sithis just walked in and killed Drascua in a rain of fire! Sir, if someone's called in the Brotherhood and the Brotherhood are taking contracts against us now...”

“If the Hags fail, we'll fight without them,” Madanach snapped. “No one in my Forsworn's incapable, none of you are cowards. Red Eagle spent the first half of his life fighting without Hagraven help, and he wouldn't have needed it if his own people had supported him. Boy, do you trust me?”

“Yes sir, of course sir, but the Brotherhood...” the man began. Madanach just grunted dismissively.

“Let them come. If anyone was going to take a contract out on me, they'd have done it years ago. When Sithis comes for me, I will die like a true Reachman but until that day comes, I will not live in fear. I ask again, do you both trust me?”

“Yes sir,” the woman breathed. “I'd serve you until my last breath, Reach-King.”

Madanach laughed. “That's not my title yet, but by the grace of Anu it will be again. And you, boy?”

“For as long as you live, I will follow you,” the man said softly. 

“And for as long as I live, I will never stop fighting for our freedom. You have my word on that, both of you.”

“Reach-King,” both warriors whispered and then there was just the sound of slapping on the back, presumably as Madanach embraced them both.

“Go,” she heard him say. “Go back to your friends outside and tell them I have heard your pleas and I will answer. Tomorrow I'll send some of my blood-brothers with you to help your camps, but for tonight, consider yourselves guests of the Lord of the Reach. We will light bale-fires and the jenever will flow, and we shall dance to show that the Dance goes on still! For the old gods and the Reach!”

“For the old gods! For the Reach!” half the camp chorused, and Liriel found herself mouthing the words with the others. No wonder Eola had had a case of hero-worship. On her previous visit, Madanach had been a man among intimates, relaxing with his daughter and with his blood-brothers, his fellow veterans of Cidhna Mine. Now he was playing the part of the King in Rags, and he was playing it to the full. Liriel was half-tempted to run out there and pledge loyalty to him herself. As it was, she waited for Kaie to come get her. 

“All right, they're gone, you can come out now,” Kaie called, opening the tent flap. Liriel scrambled out, rushing up to the top level to where Madanach was gleefully redrawing the lines on his map. The glee was short-lived. As soon as he approached, he looked up and his brow furrowed as he glared at her.

“What in the name of Sithis do you think you're playing at?” he hissed, striding over to her and grabbing her by the shoulders. “I sent you to Blind Cliff Cave, not to take on Drascua of Hag Rock!”

“Well, maybe I needed to go there for my own reasons!” Liriel snapped back. “I do have priorities other than you, you know!” He was still seething, glaring at her furiously and guilt began to gnaw at her. She hoped she hadn't caused him trouble. “Er... should I not have killed her?”

“No! I mean, of course, she was going to be a target anyway, but... Sithis' sake, Liriel, you could have been killed! And what's this about two Daughters of Sithis?? You said your Sanctuary didn't support you as Listener. Exactly how many people are you going to bring in without telling me??”

“She's a friend,” Liriel said tersely. “A trusted friend who isn't going to sell me or you out. Look, you hired me as Listener of the Dark Brotherhood to get a job done. You do not get to tell me how to do it or who I decide to recruit!”

“Drascua was not who I hired you to kill!” Madanach seethed, eyes burning with fury. “She's the most dangerous of them all, I didn't want to send you up against her, not without time to think and plan! Damn it, Liriel, will you not think of me before you do these things? If you'd died...”

“Well, I didn't and she's dead, so if you could stop shouting and get around to paying me, I would be very appreciative!” Liriel said, glaring back at the stupid, obnoxious, son of a troll. Why she'd been quite so ready to swear fealty to him a minute ago was beyond her, in fact right now she could happily punch him. Then he laughed, smiled and Liriel forgot entirely why she was angry at him.

“Yes, yes, she's quite dead and you are still very much dancing, my Liriel,” he said fondly. “Come here.” He stepped forward and drew her into an embrace, cheek pressed to hers. She really didn't understand him sometimes and began to wonder if Cidhna Mine hadn't sent him a little crazy after all. Still, he seemed pleased.

“You've forgiven me then,” Liriel said, returning the embrace, enjoying the physical contact at least. He might be a little shorter than her, but by Sithis, he was strong. There were definitely muscles under that Forsworn armour, and she definitely needed to stop thinking about what else might be under there. Honestly, what was wrong with her these days? She was an Altmer of good family, she really shouldn't be getting quite so base in her thinking. 

“There's nothing to forgive, Liriel,” he said gruffly. “By Sithis, do you know what you've done?? You've given me full control of the biggest Forsworn camp in the Reach, and Red Eagle Redoubt, the cultural birthplace of the Forsworn, all in one go. You've... you've given me the South. By the gods, Liriel, I don't even know how I'm going to repay you. But I'll give you gold, certainly, and anything else you need, anything at all, and by Anu, I will find you a gift worthy for a Dragon-Queen if it kills me.”

“No, don't die!” Liriel gasped, a little breathless although that was probably due to the way he was squeezing her. “I'd miss you.” 

She regretted it the minute she said it. By Sithis, if he'd been obnoxious before, he'd be unbearable now. Mercifully, no mockery was forthcoming. He just squeezed her that bit tighter. 

“I'd miss you too,” he said quietly, before letting her go, coughing nervously.

“Right,” he said gruffly. “Tonight we're doing what the Forsworn always do when something momentous happens, which is to get out under the sky, get some jenever down our throats and remind ourselves that the Dance of Life and Death isn't over, not for us at any rate. You'll be joining us, I trust.”

“Try stopping me,” Liriel laughed, linking her arm in his. Madanach looked a little surprised, but definitely pleased as he led her out. Time for the fun to commence.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one does partying like the Forsworn, and no one does maudlin like an old Reachman. However, it's never a good idea to feel too sorry for Madanach, as Liriel finds out to her cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for smut! Including oral, fingering, virginity, dirty talking, slightly dubcon, biting, outdoor sex, teeny bit of voyeurism. Yep, we got your smut right here.

Liriel had lost count of how much dancing she'd been doing. Someone had found an entire cow from somewhere, and it was even now being spit-roasted over an open fire, with portions being carved off for whoever wanted any. Wine and ale were circulating freely, as was a goodly portion of jenever, which Liriel, after much persuading from Kaie, had knocked back a couple of shots of, to much cheering from all assembled. Apart from Madanach, who'd just looked a bit pained, but not done anything to stop her. 

There was drumming, and a strange stringed instrument like a lute except played with something called a bow, and it did looked like a flat bow, with a wooden spine and string alongside it. The thing was called a fiddle, apparently, and while Liriel had never heard anything like it, the frenetic way the Forsworn played it, along with the insistent drumming, made her want to dance and never stop. So she'd been doing that, dancing round the fires, being twirled first by one Forsworn, then another, dancing with Kaie and Odvan and Duach and Borkul, not knowing the words to half the songs (although 'What Shall We Do With the Captured Stormcloak' was ridiculously catchy, if rather violent) but singing along anyway, joining in with firing Destruction magic into the air at various breaks in the songs.

She'd never felt so alive, and she was starting to realise what the Forsworn meant by their Dance of Life and Death. Death could come at any moment, so the important thing was to live life to the full. She'd certainly been doing that tonight. 

Madanach had been sitting apart from everyone else, perched on a log out on the edge of proceedings, quietly drinking his jenever tonic and watching everyone else have a good time. Liriel had been having too good a time to notice, but she was getting tired and the jenever had gone right to her head and everything was a little blurry. She could see Madanach though, looking on wistfully, and her heart went out to him. Poor thing, he looked so lonely. Maybe it wasn't done for the Lord of the Forsworn to have too good a time. Maybe it was unseemly. Or something for the younger ones to do but not him. She didn't know but it wasn't right for him to be all on his own like that. He shouldn't be feeling left out at his own party.

“Hello,” she breathed, taking a seat next to him. “Are you all right over here? You're all on your own!”

“Not any more, you're here,” he said, wistful look disappearing as he smiled at her. “Were you worried, Dragon-Queen?”

“You looked lonely,” said Liriel, pouting. “You should join in with the rest of us, it's your party! I bet you're a fantastic dancer.”

“Once,” said Madanach, staring into the fire. The dancing was starting to wind down now, drink taking its toll and quite a few Forsworn slinking off in pairs and the odd threesome, presumably to carry on celebrating in private. “I'm out of practice now though. Not a lot of dancing in Cidhna Mine. Wouldn't want to show you up. Also I don't have the energy any more. Not like you do.”

He sounded pathetically envious and Liriel felt sorry for him. She shifted a bit closer, feeling the chill of the night air now that she wasn't dancing. Not to mention how sleepy she was starting to feel. Yawning, she shook herself, trying not to sway too much. Losing her balance and falling off the log would just be embarrassing. 

Madanach moved a little closer to her, and next thing she knew, his arm had gone round her shoulders.

“Or perhaps not,” he said dryly. “Not about to fall asleep on me, are you?”

“No,” said Liriel, giggling a little. “I'm only a little bit tired. That and the stars keep spinning. They're so pretty, aren't they?” She looked up at the night sky, stars everywhere, the aurora quiet tonight, and only Secunda in the sky at the moment. It was beautiful but she wished it would all stay still. It was making her quite dizzy. The sky lurched back, and then Madanach's arms were around her, holding her upright.

“By Sithis, you are quite drunk, aren't you,” he said, amused.

“No!” Liriel protested, but all the same she didn't really want to move right now. She could of course, she could totally stand upright and walk around without falling over any time she felt like it. Any time at all. It was just rather nice here, with Madanach's arms around her, and Madanach right there, all nice and warm and seeming to not mind at all when she rested her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist and made herself comfortable.

“Are you all right there?” she heard him murmur in her ear. She nodded sleepily. She was just fine, and it was nice knowing he was there. Everything was just fine, and no one and nothing was going to hurt her, not with the King in Rags right here, looking after her.

“You're comfy,” she whispered. He felt reassuringly solid underneath her head and the fur of his Forsworn armour felt nice. He smelt nice too, smelling of leather and juniper and soap, clearly scrubbed clean recently. She'd had a bath at Vlindrel Hall but she'd been travelling since, and fighting too. She hoped she didn't reek of blood and death or anything – she'd got changed out of her Shrouds and rinsed off in the Karth, but she didn't know if it would help. 

“That's very fortunate, because you're not going anywhere,” she heard him say, and that sent a little thrill of delight down her spine, especially when he started stroking her cheek. Liriel closed her eyes, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace settling over her. 

From somewhere across the fire, a fiddle struck up again, except at a far slower pace than before. A voice started singing, an older male voice and Liriel decided it was probably Braig's. 

_“Take my love, take my land,  
Take me where I cannot stand._

_I don't care, I'm still free;  
You can't take the sky from me.”_

A number of other Forsworn voices joined in, including Madanach's, to Liriel's surprise. She'd not heard him sing before, and he actually had quite a nice voice, a husky baritone. But he just sounded so sad while he was singing and Liriel had to fight the urge to take him in her arms and just hold him until he felt better.

_“Take me out to the black,  
Tell them I ain't coming back._

_Burn the land and boil the sea;  
You can't take the sky from me.”_

Liriel snuggled in closer to him, wishing she could make it all go away for him. But she couldn't, the one thing she could never give him was those lost twenty years back.

_“All the Reach at our backs,_  
One day we'll rule the Druadachs.  
You can't take the sky from me...” 

The song faded out, voices trailing off. Liriel looked up, suddenly worried. The entire mood of the camp had changed, everything going quiet and sombre, even the fires starting to burn down. She looked up at Madanach, and felt her heart ache to see tears in his eyes as he downed the last of his drink. He noticed her watching him and just smiled sadly.

“Twenty damn years they took the sky away from me,” he growled. “Everything important in a Reachman's life should happen under the sky. I couldn't even see it or remember it properly and I used to feel so at peace looking at the sky and now...”

“Madanach,” she whispered, feeling her heart break. “I'm so sorry. I wish I could help.”

“You are,” she heard him breathe. “Cariad, you are.”

“That word. Cariad. What's it mean?” she murmured. Madanach didn't answer and for a moment she began to wonder if she'd offended him somehow. Was it not polite to ask?

Madanach reached out and lifted her face up, cupping first one cheek, then the other in his hands, and she had no idea what that look in his eyes meant but the intensity was frightening her a little.

“This,” he growled and then his lips were on hers, not rough but definitely firm and every thought in her mind had ground to a halt, focusing on one thing and one thing only.

_Madanach is kissing me._

His hands were sliding further back, one into her hair, fingers entwining in it while his other slid down her back, pulling her to him, crushing her against his chest and someone was gasping and whimpering and dear gods, it wasn't her, it couldn't be, and her hands were raised to push him away but instead just went around him and pulled him closer as her lips opened beneath his.

_Madanach is kissing me._

She needed to tell him to stop, she didn't want him that way, she wasn't in love, they weren't married or even engaged, she had her children to think about, she was meant to be waiting for her true love, for a pure-bred Altmer husband to sweep her off her feet. She should be telling him no, not kissing him back!

_Madanach is kissing me._

_He's good at it. What else is he good at?_

_They took the sky from him. From my fierce, brave Reachman. How dare they._

Exactly when Madanach had become her Reachman, she had no idea, but the indisputable fact remained he was kissing her and by the Eight, she didn't want him to stop. 

She was vaguely aware of voices from around the fire. 

“Oh, so that's why there's an Altmer being allowed to dance around our fires.”

“Watch it, she's killed dragons.” Odvan that, bless the man.

“Hah. About time. Get in there, boss.” That was Borkul and if her hands weren't otherwise engaged with sliding under Madanach's armour and running through his hair, he'd have been on the receiving end of a lightning strike to the face.

“Old gods, don't tell me he's finally done something about it.” Kaie, and Liriel knew she was rolling her eyes, she just knew it. “Good for him, that is my cue to leave.”

Madanach's lips finally left hers, and Liriel sagged against his chest, breathless and tingling and every nerve on edge. She'd been told kissing and indeed sex were beautiful expressions of pure love between partners,where the two would meld almost into one. This felt nothing like that. She'd never been so aware of herself and her body before, and if she was aware of her own skin, she was hyper-aware of his. There was nothing pure or gentle about how this felt, this was a raging torrent of want and need and desperately needing his lips and hands on her again and caring about very little else. 

“Madanach,” she whispered. “What- oh!” He'd leant in and kissed her neck, fierce, frantic kisses all the way down until he got to her chest, and he didn't stop there either, groaning as his lips reached her breasts and began to kiss them, and by Sithis, Forsworn armour really didn't cover a lot, did it?

“Liriel,” she heard him groan. “Gods, Liriel, you're beautiful, gods, I want you...”

No, no, no, this had gone far enough, absolutely far enough, she should have stopped this ages ago, kissing was one thing but if she didn't say no now, he'd end up deflowering her right here in front of everyone, and by Sithis, no, it wasn't meant to be like this, there was meant to be a bed and courtship and romance, not this terrifying Reachman warrior tearing her clothes off and using her. She had to say no, she had to.

“Yes,” she whimpered. “Yes, please, yes.”

A little sound of 'ooohhh' went round the campfire and Liriel was blushing, she just knew it. Not here, not like this, not in front of the entire camp. Mercifully, Madanach seemed to have finally remembered the others were there. 

“Unless the Nords are attacking, I do not want to be disturbed,” he growled, breaking off from kissing her and using telekinesis to summon a fur pelt which he flung round her shoulders. Then one arm around her back and the other under her legs and he was picking her up and carrying her away without even seeming to break a sweat.

“Where are we going?” she whispered, shivering as she belatedly realised that while Madanach could protect her from anything, there was nothing to protect her from him.

“Somewhere quieter,” Madanach murmured. “Without that lot watching and commenting. I don't care if they hear us, but they do not get to watch you.”

Liriel clung on to him, whimpering softly and trying to ignore the throbbing between her legs, the need and the want and the sound of her own blood thudding through her veins. He didn't take her far, just down to the river, where the bank dipped in a little hollow, concealing them from view. He laid her down on the ground, the fur pelt underneath her, and all she could see was the bank either side of her and the sky above, stars shining down on her, the spirits of her Aedra ancestors. They were likely not proud of her tonight. 

Madanach was looming above her, silhouetted in the starlight as he parted her legs and lay on top of her, stroking her face. 

“Now,” he murmured. “Where were we?” Then he was kissing her again, lips on hers, pulling her to him as he claimed her mouth and all Liriel could do was hold on to him, moaning and writhing against him, her loins on fire by this point. One of Madanach's hands slid under the top half of her armour, caressing her breast and she felt him shudder as a thumb crested over her nipple. Liriel whimpered softly as he began to squeeze, gently at first but slowly increasing the pressure and by the Eight, she couldn't stop, she couldn't stop holding him and kissing him and rubbing up against him and by Sithis, she could feel him hard up against her. She definitely wasn't dreaming this. He wanted her and badly. 

“Madanach,” she whispered, breaking the kiss, pulling his head down so he could start kissing her neck and breasts again.

“Liriel,” she heard him growl, a low, dangerous sound that sent shivers down her spine. “My gods, Liriel.” She felt him reach out and start to unfasten her Forsworn armour and soon she was topless, breasts exposed to the open air, nipples hardening in the chill night air, and Madanach couldn't take his eyes off them. He leant down and started kissing them almost reverently, nipping the curves gently, not hard enough to hurt, not really, but hard enough to make her yelp while his right hand continued to play with her left nipple.

“First time I've had a woman in twenty years and when I finally do... I couldn't even have imagined it would be like this,” he murmured, sounding entranced. Liriel shivered, closing her eyes and sighing. He was happy. She was making him happy, and that felt nice, it felt very nice, her fierce, unstoppable Reachman getting so much pleasure from her. Then his lips closed on her other nipple, and that felt even nicer. She ran her fingers through his hair, a lot softer and finer than it looked, and held Madanach to her, wrapping her legs and arching her back as he devoted all his attention to her nipple, sucking and nibbling on it and making gasp every time his teeth grazed it. Then she felt his other hand slide into the bottom half of her armour, fingers delving into her underwear and then...

Liriel shrieked, unable to stop herself as Madanach's fingers touched her, sliding into slick, wet folds and if she'd thought her loins were throbbing before, that was nothing as to how they felt now. She clung on to Madanach, who'd left her breast now and was working his way back up to her throat, planting hungry kisses on her flesh, nibbling her skin until he was face to face with her again, watching her as she cried out and squirmed, two of his fingers inside her, exploring and stretching and touching parts of her she never even knew could give such pleasure. 

“Madanach,” she cried, almost sobbing. “Oh gods, Madanach, yes, please, more!”

He was breathing heavily himself, groaning as he sped up whatever he was doing with this fingers, thrusting harder.

“Sithis, Liriel, I don't know know how long I'm going to last once I'm inside you,” he murmured. “Never used to have problems, but it's been a long time. But you... damn, woman, you were worth the wait.”

Liriel actually sobbed at that. He was enjoying this, she was giving him pleasure and that was intoxicating. The way his fingers were moving inside her was just icing on the cake and oh gods, it would be more than his fingers soon, she had to tell him to stop, maybe it would be all right as long as he didn't actually... hadn't she given him pleasure just by doing this?

“So,” Madanach was growling in her ear, “before I fuck the living daylights out of you, Dragon-Queen, I am going to ensure that you have already been quite thoroughly ravaged. And when you come screaming, you be sure to call my name. I want this whole damn valley to know who's giving you pleasure.”

“But... the camp,” Liriel whispered, tears in her eyes. “They'll hear!”

Madanach's mouth quirked into a predatory smile, reminiscent of Eola on the hunt. Sithis help her, Liriel had never been the prey before and she wasn't sure whether she liked it or not.

“Good,” Madanach breathed, and then his lips were on hers again, hungrily claiming her as he crushed her against him. Liriel could barely breathe, couldn't make a sound apart from desperate squeaking which only seemed to spur him on more. Then he let her go, reaching for the rest of her armour and removing that too, leaving her naked and gasping for breath. 

“Madanach, what are you – oh!” He lay down between her legs, shoving her legs apart none too gently and then his mouth was on her, fixing on her clitoris and his fingers were back inside her again and Liriel lost all ability to think coherently, writhing and crying out as Madanach set to work, harsh and fierce and relentless and not stopping, no, and what in the name of Mara had she been thinking of, feeling sorry for him? He was one of life's predators and she should have known he'd get what he wanted sooner or later. Now he'd got her and the worst part was she didn't want it to end, never wanted it to end as the pleasure burned through her, and she was crying out, screaming, not even caring who heard her now. All she cared about was Madanach between her legs.

“Yes, please, Madanach, yes, yes, please, more!” she heard herself crying, repeating the words over and over as all thought drained out of her head and she screamed her pleasure to the world, sobbing and pleading as she howled his name and begged for more. Madanach gave her clitoris one last kiss before moving away, repositioning himself. He'd already shed the lower half of his own armour, and before Liriel could process what that meant or what he was about to do, he was at her entrance and then roughly shoving himself inside her.

Liriel screamed, not in pleasure this time. It hurt, it hurt, it felt like she was being torn apart and no matter how she tried, how she moved, he was there, inside her, pinning her down, hands on her hips, holding her still. He was leaning above her, eyes closed, and although she couldn't make out his expression properly in the dark, she could tell from the way his breathing had changed that something of the fierceness had gone.

“Liriel,” she heard him whisper, sounding half-dazed. “Oh, _Liriel._ ”

“Madanach,” she whispered, tears in her eyes, not sure what to say to him but desperately wanting to tell him something. “Madanach, please...”

He was starting to move again, and the pain at least was easing as he thrust slowly and gently inside her, seemingly in a world of his own.

“Liriel,” he was sighing again. “By the gods, Liriel, you feel as good as you look.” Liriel shivered, gasping softly as he took her, feeling herself stretching around him, muscles clenching down on him and he was groaning quietly, clearly loving every second.

“Having fun?” she hissed at him, and the infuriating son of a bitch just laughed.

“Yes. Old gods, yes.” He smiled and leaned in closer, stroking her cheek and then he was kissing her again, gentle but insistent and that smile never left his face while he did it. Liriel moaned into his mouth because the pleasure was coming back, starting to build inside her again, fire pooling in her groin as he began to speed up, thrusting faster, pinning her arms to the ground as he did so.

“Madanach,” she gasped in between kisses. “Oh Madanach, I...” _Should never have done this and yet I don't want you to stop._

“Cariad,” she heard him whisper back. “Liriel, cariad, you're beautiful. My beautiful Queen of Dragons.”

“Why do you always call me that?” she managed to get out. “Dragon-Queen?”

“Only a Queen is good enough for a King,” she heard him breathe into her ear, and she nearly wept to hear it, gasping his name again. He managed to choke out hers and then there were no more words, just each other, moving against each other in the moonlight as she held him, writhing in his arms as he thrust into her, definitely speeding up now, his breath coming harsh and ragged, and so was she, another orgasm building, less intense but still welcome and as she gave in to it, so did he, thrusting harder and faster and as she cried his name out, he bit into her shoulder, muffling his own cries as he finally hit his own orgasm. Liriel cried out in pain and surprise and by Sithis, this would leave a bruise, but not only did she not care, it just made everything that bit more intense. 

“Madanach!” she cried as he thrust inside her, warm fluids trickling down her leg as he finally let go her shoulder.

“Mine,” he hissed. “My Liriel.” Liriel was too shattered to argue, just falling back against the fur as he withdrew, clearly spent. He kissed her once on the forehead before lying down next to her, arm and leg flung over her while he rested his head on her shoulder, eyes closed and also shaking.

“Are you all right?” Liriel whispered. He'd gone very quiet. It wasn't a good sign, if she was honest. 

“Mm-hmm. Very,” he murmured. “By Sithis, I'd forgotten how it felt. Congratulations, macreena, you're better than Skooma.”

“I wouldn't know, I've never tried it,” said Liriel, still not entirely at ease with the fact he'd clearly taken the stuff on a regular basis in Cidhna Mine. He didn't come across as an addict, but you could never tell.

“Don't,” was all Madanach said. “Horrible stuff. I'm just glad I knew enough Restoration magic to purge it so I didn't get withdrawal symptoms. Others didn't have it so easy.”

Liriel decided not to ask who. She just pulled him closer, starting to feel the cold. Not to mention the stickiness all over her inner thighs and the fact that her thigh muscles weren't obeying her any more.

“I don't think I can move,” she whispered. “And I'm cold.”

Madanach nodded, yawning and rubbing his eyes. “Agreed. Let's get you cleaned up and inside.” Sitting up, he reached out with his hand and cast a Flame Wall spell, a wall of fire spanning the river to the far bank. 

“What-?” Liriel began, but Madanach just smiled. 

“Got to get the water heated up somehow, hey?” He helped her stagger to her feet before picking her up again, carrying her to the river and wading in, finally letting her stand once he was in the middle, the flame wall burning upstream and warm water from it eddying around them both.

It felt nice, and Liriel sighed as the water flowed around her, cleaning her. Then Madanach was there at her back, arms sliding around her as he kissed her neck, gently this time, nuzzling her hair. He didn't say anything, just held her upright and stroked her thighs, rubbing the stains off them. Then his fingers travelled up and into her cleft again and Liriel cried out, leaning back in his arms. She turned her head, looking into his eyes and then he was kissing her again, turning her around and switching hands, one sliding into her and deftly manipulating already swollen flesh while the other went around her shoulders as he kissed her again. Liriel whimpered, clinging on to him as he brought her to climax yet again, holding her close while the fire burned down and the water started to cool. Finally she collapsed in his arms, shaking all over, trying to string a coherent thought together but failing.

“Come on,” she heard him say. “Let's dry off, get inside, get you to bed. Still not got a proper one, I'm afraid, but there is room for two there now.” He stroked her cheek and kissed her once on the lips, before taking her hand and leading her back to the bank.

Liriel shook herself off and sank on to the fur pelt, using it to dry herself off while Madanach just cast a flame cloak and stood there looking at the sky while it did its work drying him. The fact he was stark naked and easily visible didn't seem to bother him at all. Deciding she was as dry as she was going to get out here, she cast a magelight and reached for her clothes. He'd already seen her naked, not like she had that to worry about. By Sithis, he'd seen everything. He'd touched her, seen her naked, seen her come, used her for pleasure and she'd begged him for more. Liriel was shaking all over, fumbling as she pulled her clothes back on, sure she wasn't doing it right and everyone would know what had happened. 

They'd know anyway. Wasn't like she'd kept her voice down. She'd turned into some wanton animal in his arms, crying and screaming his name and by Sithis, the entire camp must have heard her. They'd certainly seen her kissing Madanach by the fire and being carried off in his arms. Everyone would know, everyone. She'd never felt quite so humiliated in all her life. Still, at least no one knew it had been her first time. Let them think she was some sort of whore, she didn't care. At least they wouldn't know she'd just thrown away her virginity for a man she'd met all of three times. 

Madanach's flame cloak had worn off by now and he was pulling his own clothes back on.

“You're very quiet, Dragon-Queen,” he said, only a tiny hint of concern in his voice. “Should I be worried?”

“I'm fine,” Liriel said, although she felt anything but. She let him pull her to her feet and brushed herself down while he collected the fur pelt they'd mated on – she couldn't call it making love, she just couldn't.

“Liriel,” and now there was definitely a note of worry there. “There's blood on this pelt, are you sure you're all right? I didn't hurt you, did I? Or is it your time?”

Maiden's blood, oh gods, she'd shed maiden's blood and he'd seen it, he wasn't an idiot, it was only a matter of time before he guessed the truth and...

“I have to go,” she whispered, turning and running. Her things were back at the camp, and her horse, if she could get those and get out of here, she'd be fine, she need never come back, job done, he had the Forsworn united, he could take it from here.

“Liri- wait, Liriel!” he shouted, sprinting after her. Liriel panicked and resorted to Shouting of her own.

“WULD NAH!” The Whirlwind Sprint gave her a head start and the advantage of relative youth did the rest. She easily outdistanced him, fleeing back to the camp, darting past the surprised lookouts.

The Redoubt itself was quiet, most of its occupants either still outside or retreating to bed. Kaie was still up, staring broodily into the fire, and Liriel didn't realise she was there until she heard her call her name.

“Oh, hey Liriel. Da not with you?”

Liriel grabbed her pack and weapons, really not wanting to talk to Kaie right now. 

“Liriel? Wait, what's wrong, where is he – by Sithis, Liriel, what have you done??” Kaie was getting up, reaching for her axes.

“I didn't – he's fine!” Liriel cried. “Listen, I'm sorry, I have to go, he'll be back any minute, tell him I – I don't know, just tell him I'm sorry!”

“Liriel!” Kaie shouted, but Liriel was running, she had to get out of this place before Madanach caught up with her. 

She made it all the way to the entrance before colliding with him. He was not best pleased, to put it mildly.

“Damn you, woman, would you mind telling me what in Oblivion is going on? One minute we're in each other's arms and the next you're running away?” He'd grabbed her shoulders, eyes boring into hers.

“I'm sorry, I can't, I – I need to leave, let go of me!”

It had worked before. It didn't work this time.

“Not until you tell me what in the Void I did to upset you,” he growled, fingers digging into her skin. 

Liriel could cry. Taken her virginity, utterly ruined her for anyone else, taken her last shreds of innocence and turned her into some wanton harlot, that was all and she couldn't even tell him that because she'd feel like such a fool doing it. Let him be angry, she'd rather that than have him laugh at her or worse, pity her.

“Get out of my way, Madanach,” she snarled back at him.

“No,” he snapped, and he'd raised his hands to her cheeks and was looking for all the world like he was about to kiss her again, and if that happened, Liriel would lose it completely and probably cry. He'd left her no choice.

“FUS RO!” she Shouted, the Thu'um powering into Madanach and sending him staggering back into the wall. Before he could recover, she was running, fleeing the Redoubt, pushing past the Forsworn sentries who tried to stop her and running for her horse, mounting and riding before the King in Rags could catch her again.

“Liriel!” she heard him shouting, furious. “LIRIEL!”

Shock magic flashed behind her, but either she was out of range or he'd missed or maybe he was just taking his rage out on some innocent plant or wildlife. Liriel didn't care. She was getting out of here. She was getting away from the Reach and the Forsworn and dangerous Reachman warlords with eyes like sin and kisses that left her reeling. She was going home, home to Whiterun and normality and her little girls, and leaving this madness behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That song from earlier in the chapter is the theme song from Firefly. It seemed thematically appropriate and I really like it so in it went.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Nightshade side comes to the fore as Liriel finally returns to Falkreath Sanctuary to find things have moved on in her absence, and while Cicero is pleased to see her again, Astrid's asking some rather awkward questions.

Liriel couldn't sleep. Still the same, always the same, three weeks after her last disastrous foray into the Reach. Restless, antsy, her loins on fire, needing to be touched, needing to be kissed, fucked, fingered and reduced to a sobbing, screaming heap. Unable to stop thinking about arms around her, lips on hers, the smell of juniper and a low voice whispering in her ear “cariad...”.

She'd ridden to Whiterun non-stop, collapsing into Lydia's arms in tears, and her housecarl had taken one look, told both girls to go and play outside, their mother was exhausted, and tucked Liriel up in bed. Liriel hadn't told Lydia everything, in particular who her mysterious human lover had been, but she'd told her enough for Lydia to understand that she'd lost her virginity to someone completely unsuitable and was regretting it horribly. And Lydia had listened and fussed over her and told her he wasn't worth it and Liriel shouldn't worry, she was going to find some beautiful and special mer husband one of these days and have beautiful golden-skinned babies with him, and he wouldn't care he wasn't her first, and Liriel had cried in Lydia's arms and let herself be comforted.

Except she couldn't get him out of her head. Even finally sorting out those contracts Nazir had given her hadn't helped. She kept wanting to run back to Druadach Redoubt, fling herself at Madanach's feet and beg him to touch her again, please, she'd do anything...

She was doomed, frankly. She had to hope this would go away soon, because she had things to be getting on with, an Elder Scroll to find, a Shout to learn, and then get back to Solitude to see General Tullius about taking the Rift back. She couldn't afford to waste any time on pining over Madanach.

But first she had to get paid for some jobs well done. She was saving up to buy a house in Solitude, she needed all the cash she could get. So back to Falkreath Sanctuary for the first time since the Night Mother had spoken then.

“Welcome back, Liriel.” 

Liriel stopped dead, knowing that voice anywhere. Astrid's honeyed tones were unmistakable, and like Eola, she had that gift of being able to convince one to undertake the unthinkable. Such as ignore the Night Mother who, Liriel had started to realise, was far, far more than the relic Astrid had said she was.

“Astrid,” Liriel said, trying to keep her voice neutral. “What is it?”

“It's been a long time,” Astrid purred, detaching herself from the wall and approaching. “We were starting to get worried. We wondered if something had happened to you, or perhaps you'd got tired of us. Maybe found a new family somewhere else, hmm?”

Sissel and Lucia's faces swam before Liriel's eyes, and for a moment Liriel couldn't breathe. She tried her hardest to keep her children away from her adventuring life, but she couldn't exactly hide the fact she'd adopted them, not when she lived in a major city like Whiterun. Everyone knew the Dragonborn's daughters, everyone in the city knew where her house was. Easy for Astrid to find out if she wanted a hold over Liriel.

“Why would you think that, Astrid?” said Liriel, keeping her voice light. “You know my loyalty lies here.” _To the Night Mother, not you. But still here._ “I had some other business to attend to, but you know I always come back.”

“Not from Cidhna Mine, you wouldn't have,” Astrid purred, and Liriel froze. Gods, if Astrid knew about Madanach... Not that Madanach wasn't capable of holding his own against Astrid, but she didn't want her anywhere near him if she could avoid it. 

“Yes, Liriel, we heard all about that,” Astrid continued. “One of our own sentenced to life for a series of murders – not that we were judging you but it seemed so sloppy. Then it turned out it wasn't you, it was the Forsworn and their leader, this... Madanach? How in the world did you get mixed up in all that?”

“Trying to solve a murder,” Liriel admitted. “I know, I know, but the client was so polite and sweet and if anyone knows anything about murder, it's us.”

“Now that is true,” Astrid laughed. “Well, seems like you learnt your lesson there. I'm not afraid of a lot, but the Forsworn are dangerous. They're as brutal as we are, and there's a lot more of them. I'd hate to have to assassinate one of them.”

“So would I,” said Liriel softly, although her meaning was rather different than Astrid's. “So did you want something, Astrid?”

“Yes,” Astrid nodded. “Listen Liriel, I've been thinking. This customer the Night Mother told you to meet.”

“This customer who is probably long gone by now, yes,” said Liriel tersely. Honestly, it had been a month, did Astrid have no sense?

Astrid just smiled and produced a letter. “Did you really think I wouldn't look into it?” she purred. “I sent Nazir and Arnbjorn. The news they brought back, well. I wouldn't have believed it, even of them, if they hadn't shown me this.”

Liriel read the letter, feeling her knees grow weak. “The Emperor,” she whispered. “Titus Mede himself?” 

Astrid nodded, unholy grin on her face. “I know! Isn't it just _delightful?_ ”

Liriel could only nod, still reading. Then she got to the targets leading up to the Emperor.

“Vittoria Vici??” she cried. “That was one of ours? I thought it was a Stormcloak plot...”

“Exactly as planned,” Astrid laughed. “I'd have given the honour to you, but well, you weren't here and time was of the essence. Arnbjorn and Babette took care of it. But you can certainly deal with the next one. Talk to Gabriella. She'll tell you the details. Make me proud, Liriel.”

“I will send them screaming to the Void,” Liriel promised, all thoughts of Madanach flying out of her mind. A contract against the Emperor?? Legionnaire she might be, but that was more to help stop misguided and racist Nords obsessed with a false deity than anything else. When it came right down to it, Liriel was a child of Alinor at heart. He might be Emperor but he wasn't her Emperor. Finally, something to look forward to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Night Mother looked the same as ever. Silent, unmoving... and no words for Liriel.

“Hello, Mother,” Liriel whispered, looking at her face. A fellow mer in life, or so Liriel was told, a Dunmer who'd turned from the Morag Tong and Mephala to a far older deity. “I'm back. I'm sorry I was gone for so long, but something came up. I found another son of Sithis! He's not going to join us, but I think you'd like him. Except I screwed up and now I don't think he'll speak to me again. I'm sorry, Mother. But I'm here. Got anything for me?”

Nothing, but then Liriel hadn't expected otherwise. Honestly, she was lucky Astrid had actually followed up on the Night Mother's request, or things could have been awkward.

She closed the coffin doors and then a voice did whisper through the chapel... but it wasn't the Night Mother.

“Listener... is back!”

She'd know that voice anywhere. “Cicero,” she laughed, turning to face him. Cicero emerged from the shadows, eyebrows lifted, almost as if he'd never expected her to come home.

“Poor Cicero had heard you'd been... arrested!” Cicero breathed, gliding towards her, noiseless in his jester boots. “Detained! Arraigned under the law! For murder! Oh Listener, say it isn't so!”

“It was true,” Liriel admitted, feeling horribly guilty as he shrieked in alarm. “But I was framed, I didn't do it, and I got out. Look, I'm here, back, it was all a horrible misunderstanding.”

“Cicero should hope so!” Cicero gasped, still appalled. “For the Listener to _get caught!_ No, no, Cicero could not believe it.” He stepped forward, and then to Liriel's surprise, he was hugging her, head resting on her shoulder, squeezing her tight.

“The pretender Astrid said you were never coming back,” Cicero whispered. “Mother's new Listener, gone! Locked away! Buried alive in horrible, horrible Cidhna Mine, never to see the light of day again! But not dead, no, so no new Listener could arise and yet not here to hear dear Mother's words!!” Cicero buried his head on her chest, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Cicero has been so worried. Only knowing that the pretender lies made it better.” He finally looked up, pouting at her. “Cicero missed you. The others have been so cruel and uncaring, mocking poor unwanted Cicero. Liriel was the only one ever nice to poor Cicero, the only one to talk to him and listen and care how he was doing.”

Liriel cradled him in her arms, guilt gnawing at her. She should have come back sooner, much sooner. Poor Cicero, stuck here, reliant on what Astrid told him, he must have been going out of his mind in terror. Seemed like it was only his mistrust of Astrid that had saved him.

“Well you don't need to worry any more, Cicero, I'm back,” said Liriel softly. “And I promise I'll be here at least once a week to see you. You're my friend and I care about you. Honestly, if it wasn't for you telling me all about Sithis and the Night Mother and what a Listener was, I don't think I'd have settled in at all well.”

Cicero giggled, blushing a little. “Oh, it was nothing. Cicero didn't know the pretender had told you nothing! Not fitting his new sister should go about her business unknowing, is it now?”

No, it really wasn't, in fact her ignorance could have cost her dearly if Madanach hadn't been quite so understanding. Time to see how much of the Auld Alliance was still remaining on the other side.

“Cicero, what do you know about the Forsworn?”

Cicero tilted his head, confused.

“Now that is an odd question. Why does my Listener wish to know that?”

“Answer it and I'll tell you,” Liriel murmured, letting Cicero go and folding her arms. Amazing how much safer she felt talking to him than Madanach, despite the fact Cicero had surely been responsible for as much death and destruction over the years. 

“Well, to be honest, Listener, Cicero doesn't really know much,” said Cicero, scratching his head. “Only that they live in the Reach and dress in animal parts and skulls and all sorts, and that they like to kill things. Lots of things! But not as many things as Cicero.” Now he was grinning up at her again, sly smile on his face. 

So he had no idea either. Well, she supposed it had been the Skyrim Sanctuaries most involved in the Alliance, and Cicero hadn't exactly been high-ranked before he'd become Keeper. A pity. Liriel could have used his knowledge, and while it was just feasible that Babette or Gabriella or even Festus might know something about the Alliance, she didn't want to ask them. It'd get back to Astrid, and then Astrid would start investigating, and then... well. Astrid making her own overtures to the Forsworn would be very very bad, especially if she started doing it in Liriel's name at camps other than Madanach's.

“Never mind, Cicero,” said Liriel, patting his shoulder. “It's just I ran into one of them in Markarth. He had an awful lot of stories to tell, and he'd had past contact with the Brotherhood. I was wondering if you knew anything in turn.”

“Oh no, Listener, Cicero is just a humble fool, you know that!” Cicero giggled. Liriel smiled, humouring him. Humble perhaps, but underneath the madness, Cicero was one of the most observant people she knew. She idly wondered what he and Madanach would make of each other, before remembering she was never going to lay eyes on him again, and that hurt more than she thought it would.

“Come on,” she said softly. “Let's get some food. You can catch me up on the gossip.”

“They tell poor Cicero nothing,” Cicero said mournfully. “Only things that will upset him.”

“And?” Liriel asked, draping an arm around his shoulders. “Don't tell me you're relying only on what others say to you for your information now.”

Cicero looked up, the sly grin crossing his face fully confirming that Cicero had no scruples about eavesdropping whatsoever. “Oh Liriel, sweet Liriel. Cicero has heard the most delightful rumours for you...”

Liriel laughed and led him out. Sithis, it was good to be back. She didn't fancy Cicero, no – but madness and violence aside, he was a very good friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Astrid waited until Liriel was gone, safely closeted away with the fool before calling Babette over.

“Well, Babette, she didn't deny it, in fact she admitted she'd got mixed up with this whole Forsworn affair. Recognised Madanach's name well enough. I think our Liriel is hiding something, don't you?”

Babette looked worried, and that was never a good thing. Babette didn't worry about much but when she did, her intuition was rarely off. 

“I don't know, Astrid. It could just be that all she did was escape with them, we've got no proof it went any further.”

“She's been gone an awfully long time since, nearly two months,” said Astrid, brooding. “Tell me more of this alliance we used to have.”

“Not much of an alliance,” Babette sighed. “More a non-aggression pact and training agreement. They'd send some of their warriors to train as assassins with us, we'd send some of our assassins to train with them. That was about it. Apparently they saw the Night Mother as some sort of Hagraven to be venerated, but it didn't translate into actual loyalty – when the Forsworn needed them back, they'd leave our Sanctuaries without a thought. It was a long time ago, Astrid. There wouldn't be any there now who still remember it – they're not elves or vampires and the Forsworn tend not to live to a ripe old age. I think we stopped sending people because too many of them kept dying. Not worth sending valuable assassins to be trained if they never come back.”

All the same, Astrid was suspicious. There didn't need to be living individuals who remembered the alliance for it to still be a factor, in fact it made it more likely the current Forsworn might idealise the past. How likely was it that Liriel had approached them for aid in escaping, told them she was Listener, and that they now worshipped her like they did Hagravens and were prepared to follow her lead? Admittedly not terribly likely but the possibility was too dangerous to ignore. Liriel thinking herself Listener and having her head turned by Cicero into thinking she was entitled to rule this Sanctuary, and then branching out and allying with a faction of trained killers like the Forsworn? It didn't bear thinking about. Still, before she could act, she'd need proof. It was time to start keeping a much closer eye on that Altmer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kill Gaius Maro while he travelled Skyrim, Gabriella had said. Here's the schedule we stole from the Penitus Oculatus. He leaves next week, be there to see him off. Plant this letter on the body. Easy, right?

Oh but you have to do it in a city, not on the road. Body has to be found. You're up to that, aren't you Liriel?

Liriel had gritted her teeth and said yes, but the fact remained she had no earthly idea how she was supposed to murder the man when he'd either be out on the street or in the barracks. With difficulty, she imagined. It was no use, she'd have to do it in a city where she was Thane, ensure the guards left her alone.

Unfortunately that left precisely two options – Whiterun and Markarth. She really didn't want to have to do it in Whiterun. Not with her house there, not where her girls might see it. Which left one choice – a city she swore she'd never go back to.

Damnation. Still, Markarth was not Druadach Redoubt, it wasn't like she'd run into Madanach in the market or anything. All the same, the city had eyes and she knew Forsworn agents would be watching.

Let them watch. As long as they left her alone.

So it was she let herself into Vlindrel Hall, made her way into the dimly lit kitchen... and froze. It was him, Madanach, sitting right there in her house, in her damn kitchen, huddled by the fire, just a silhouette really but she was sure that was him.

“What in Oblivion are you doing here??” she hissed, magic blazing in her hands. “Get out of my house!!”

The man sitting by her fire sprang to his feet, reaching for a nearby battleaxe, and then Liriel saw the firelight glinting off steel armour and that this man was the same height she was, and she finally remembered she had a housecarl here now.

“Oh,” she said weakly. “You're my housecarl, aren't you?”

He nodded, inclining his head as he lowered the axe. A Nord, not a Reachman, six foot tall, warpainted spiral on his cheek and blind in one eye from an old war-wound, but still clearly very capable if the muscular frame was anything to go by. His hair was starting to go silver at the temples, but most of it was still the same dark blonde-reddish that Eola's was, so while not a green youth, not old either. Thirty-something? Perhaps? She knew Eola was twenty-five, so ten years older than her might not be far off.

“Yes, my Thane. Argis the Bulwark at your service. Shall I get some more candles lit for you? I don't normally bother with that many when it's just me.”

“Yes, yes, that would be lovely, I'm very sorry to, er...” Liriel motioned nervously before sitting down at the kitchen table, not sure what to say to him. He just nodded and started lighting candles, getting the room fully lit while Liriel told herself off. This city was getting to her, it had to be, she was starting to imagine Madanach everywhere.

“My Thane, you have some deliveries waiting,” said Argis hesitantly. “Shall I get them for you?”

Deliveries? Here? Liriel was immediately wary, but motioned for Argis to bring them out.

“Who are they from?” As if she couldn't guess, and she was proved right.

“Nepos the Nose brought them over. Said they were from a friend of yours,” he said, taking a seat opposite and handing them over. “This one arrived not long after you were Thaned.”

It proved to be a chest full of gold, nigh on a thousand septims, and in it a letter in a sloping but elegant handwriting with a little shock rune seal in the bottom right hand corner emblazoned with a capital M – another reminder of home, the great and good of Alinor all had personal rune seals for signing their important post. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she read.

_“Liriel,_

_Payment for services rendered, as promised._

_I don't know exactly what I did to offend you, but I can promise not to immediately rain fire and lightning on you if you return to my base and explain yourself._

_Otherwise, should your services be required again, I will send word via our friend in Markarth._

_M”_

Liriel swore under her breath. Damn his arrogant Forsworn backside! Crunching up the letter, she threw it into the fire, head in her hands. Damn him to the Void and back, she was going nowhere near him, not ever again, certainly not if he spoke to her like that.

“There was another one,” said Argis, passing another sealed envelope over, also bearing the glowing silver-purple rune that was Madanach's personal symbol. “Came a week later.”

Dreading the contents, Liriel opened it.

_“Liriel,_

_For the love of the old gods, a response wouldn't kill you. Your lack of one may kill me, however._

_Get back here and tell me what's going on, before I start searching Skyrim for you._

_M”_

Liriel quietly folded it and put it away, tears prickling at her eyes. She could see him doing it too, plain-clothes Forsworn agents discreetly visiting every city in Skyrim trying to find her, and oh Mara, if he found her kids...

“And this one a week ago,” said Argis nervously, almost as if he knew who they were from and why.

_“Liriel,_

_Whatever I did, I'm sorry. Come home._

_M”_

Liriel bit her lip, knowing she had tears rolling down her cheeks and she was about to lose it completely in a second. Wordlessly Argis retrieved the last one. It was a flat, square wooden box with a stylised dragon picked out in silver leaf on the lid, curled in a circle and biting its tail. Heart in her mouth, Liriel opened it. Inside, on a leather lining, rested a necklace of some sort, unlike any she'd ever seen. Heavy gold, woven like a rope made from lots of gold threads, curved in a circle except for the ends which presumably sat at the wearer's throat. Two golden dragon heads with rubies for eyes. It looked priceless.

“What is this?” she whispered, holding it in her hands and by Sithis, there was a fire enchantment on it too, a powerful one, halving the amount of damage she'd take from fire. 

“There's a note,” said Argis softly, looking away. “Try reading that, it might say.”

It was sealed with the same rune seal as the others, but the tone was different.

_“Dragon-Queen,_

_I promised you a gift fit for a Queen of Dragons. I keep my promises. The gold and rubies came from one of our mines, the actual crafting was done by a Reachman smith who still had the secret of how to make these, and the design's a traditional Reach one. Keirine did the enchantment. Wear it when you're slaying dragons and think of me._

_I think I know why you ran. I'm not angry – honoured, actually. I don't presume to know how you're feeling but please believe me when I tell you you did nothing wrong and that you have nothing to be ashamed of._

_Cariad, come home. Only a King is good enough for a Queen._

_M”_

Liriel really did lose it then, howling as she broke down in tears. He knew, he'd guessed, of course he had and... and... he wasn't mocking her. In fact, not only was he not mocking her, he was being sympathetic – no, courting her. Sending her charming letters and expensive gifts – very expensive gifts.

Aedra and Daedra, she missed him. She couldn't even begin to understand it, how he could use and degrade her and make her love it one minute, and the next be treating her like she really was royalty. But she missed him and if he'd walked in in person right then, she'd have had a hard time not bursting into tears in his arms. 

Argis was reading the letters she'd dropped, quietly gathering everything up and stacking it on the table before coming to kneel at her side.

“You're the lover of the King in Rags, aren't you?” he said softly. “Did you quarrel?”

Liriel nodded tearfully, too tired to hide it any longer. “Are you going to tell Igmund?” she whispered. To her surprise, Argis actually laughed, shaking his head.

“No, why would I? You're my –,” he hesitated then shrugged. “You're my Thane,” he finished. “I work for you now, not Igmund. If Madanach's the one who makes you happy... does he make you happy?”

He was watching her carefully as he said this, scrutinising her as if there was far more weight on the answer than she knew. Truth be told, Liriel wasn't even sure. Even before they'd had sex, she'd vacillated between wanting to hit him and wanting to pledge loyalty forever. And sitting by that fire, the stars above her and Madanach's arms around her – she'd felt happy then. Safe. Protected. Loved.

“I don't know,” she whispered. “But I think I could make him happy. Is that enough, do you think?”

“I think,” said Argis carefully, “that he'd prefer someone at his side who enjoyed being there. But I also think he's likely not picky these days, and he definitely seems taken with you. And you're not going to know if he could make you happy unless he's there to do it. So, er, go for it?”

Liriel did smile a little at that. She'd never know for sure unless she saw him again, this much was clear, and she strongly suspected that if she didn't visit soon, Nepos would tell him she was here and he'd turn up in person, never mind the risk of getting caught.

“Argis, I've got some business in the city tomorrow, and afterwards it's distinctly possible I might have to leave in a hurry. But if Nepos brings any more post over, or if any other Reach natives linked to Nepos show up, just tell them to tell him I got his messages and... and I'll talk to him. If he still wants to see me.”

Argis laughed out loud, patting her shoulder. “Man sends a woman something like this, he wants to see her again, trust me. Don't worry, my Thane, he won't object.”

Reassuring, although exactly how Argis could sound so confident and why a Nord housecarl would presume to know how the King in Rags' mind worked, Liriel had no idea. But she supposed men in love were the same the world over.

Men in love. Madanach in love. With her. That was a frightening thought. She didn't even know how to react to that. And yet he'd never send something that valuable to a woman he didn't have feelings for.

She closed the box, slipping it into her pack, along with the letters. She'd have to think about it, but not now. Now she had a murder to plot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Maro had been easy in the end – a reverse pickpocket to slip the letter into his bag, then a Frenzy spell, he'd started attacking everything that moved and the guards had done the rest. She'd walked away with a forty septim bounty.

After that, she'd made her way out, not to Druadach but to the Shrine of Namira. Time for an independent opinion on this gift of Madanach's.

Eola was there in the main room, fighting off a reanimated Draugr corpse, steel sword in one hand and a Dwarven one Liriel had given her in the other. Sanyon, her right-hand man in running the coven, was sitting off to one side, bored.

“I still don't see what the purpose of all this is, Eola,” Sanyon sighed. “You have your magic too.”

“Not the point,” Eola gasped, dodging and weaving and wielding both swords with a precision that even Liriel would have trouble matching, and yes those were Forsworn techniques, Liriel could see it quite clearly. “Need to practice these things! Come, come and face the Forsworn!”

“You're not one any more?” Sanyon said pointedly. Eola just laughed. 

“Doesn't matter. I may have left the Forsworn, the Forsworn never left me.”

Interesting. Maybe Eola was having a change of heart. She'd be an asset to any Forsworn camp, Liriel knew that. But right now she needed information and Eola was not going to talk to her while she was fending off a Draugr.

One fireball later and the Draugr was running towards her instead. Two fireballs and it was dead on the ground, crumbling into ash. Eola looked rather disappointed, but she cheered up when she saw Liriel.

“Liriel!” she cried, dancing over and hugging her. “How's things? Did you need me to help off some more Hags for you? Or anyone else? I'm not fussy, you know that.”

“I know,” said Liriel, hugging her back. “But this time I just need to talk to you. In private,” she added, looking pointedly at Sanyon. The elf raised his hands and left, not needing any more of a request than that.

“So what do you need to know?” Eola asked, taking a seat and motioning for Liriel to join her. “I'll tell you what I can, but I'd say you'd know more about the current state of the Forsworn than I do.”

“Quite possibly, but it's just customs and language I need help with,” said Liriel, reaching for the box containing the neckwear. “Eola, what does cariad mean? And macreena?”

Eola's eyebrows shot up and a smirk crossed her face. “Liriel dearest, do you mean to say you have an admirer? That's wonderful, darling.”

Liriel could feel herself blushing. Damn it, what was Madanach calling her???

“Just tell me what they mean and how they're used,” she said through gritted teeth. Eola just smiled.

“Well, cariad means cared-for one, someone you care a great deal for. Mostly used between lovers, and by parents towards children, or indeed any adult towards any child they know well. You get female friends using it to each other, but you don't get men using it to other men, not unless they actually are with each other. If someone's calling you that... well, if it's a woman, they may just be being friendly, but it does mean they like you. If it's a man... Liriel darling, it means you've got yourself a lover if you want one.”

Liriel shivered, feeling the truth of it hit home. Madanach loved her. How or why, she had no idea, but he clearly did. Maybe it was just because he'd been lonely in Cidhna Mine for so long. Maybe it was because of her Dark Brotherhood links, or the killing she'd been willing to do for him. Maybe he just had a thing for Altmer? She didn't know, but one thing was becoming rapidly clear – he'd not been using her nor did he intend to discard her. Quite the reverse. 

“And macreena?” Liriel asked softly.

“Means my heart,” said Eola, her voice surprisingly gentle. “Sweet Namira, Liriel, no one uses that one except parents to their children, or between lovers. If someone is saying that to you... they're in love with you.”

And he'd called her that, he had, in the unguarded moments right after sex when his usual barriers were down. Mara help her, when she'd prayed for him to not be lonely, she'd not meant to offer herself. Shaking, Liriel pushed the box forward.

“What's it mean when someone gives you one of these?” she asked. Eola raised an eyebrow as she stroked the case before lifting the latch. Liriel watched in amazement as Eola's eyes widened and she actually gasped.

“It's expensive, isn't it?” she said nervously. “Oh Sithis, he really is in love, isn't he?”

Eola lifted her eyes from the necklace, staring up at Liriel, and Liriel all of a sudden began to feel rather nervous. She didn't think Eola would ever hurt her, but right then, she wasn't anything like as sure as usual.

“ _Madanach_ is your lover??” Eola breathed. Liriel bit her lip and nodded, deciding she might as well admit it. Eola turned away, resting her face in her hands, not saying a word.

“What?” Liriel asked, worried. “What's wrong? Should I not – you're not jealous, are you?”

“No!” Eola snapped, then sighed, her shoulders sagging. “No. No, listen, it's just – complicated, that's all. I haven't even seen the guy since I was five, after all. And he's a free agent, I suppose, and you are pretty, and it's great he's got someone again. He deserves to be happy after everything that's happened, and if he was going to fall in love, well, I'm glad it's with you. But Liriel, this...” she indicated the necklace. “You really have no idea what it means, do you?”

“I was hoping you'd tell me,” said Liriel, starting to get a little impatient. Eola just laughed.

“Very well. It's a torc. Ancient symbol of leadership, used to be all the chieftains in the Reach would wear one. You know we've got our Forsworn headdresses – well, they're an integral part of the ruler's regalia but you can't get a crown on top of them. A torc though, that fits just fine. Goes round your neck, open bit at the front. The bigger and more expensive the thing, the more powerful the chief. That was a long time ago though. These days, there's only one person would wear one.”

“The King in Rags,” Liriel whispered, staring at it again. He'd said it was a gift fit for a queen. He'd given her the actual Reach symbol of queenship.

“That's right,” said Eola. “Madanach, and his immediate family. Anyone not his wife or his child seen wearing one of those in the Reach, it's a challenge to his authority, and I don't think I need to tell you what he'd do to a challenger.”

Liriel could imagine it all too well. “But he's given one to me and I'm not his wife or child – oh.”

The realisation sank in as to what precisely this gift entailed and just how the rest of the Reach would see it. For her to wear this, and not having been killed by the Forsworn for doing it, and especially for anyone who knew about her and Madanach... there was only one possible interpretation. 

“If I wear this publicly in the Reach, I am announcing to the world I'm his queen,” said Liriel softly, feeling fury start to rise in her veins. The sly, manipulative old bastard... she was going to kill him. Actually go to Druadach and murder the son of a bitch in front of everyone. 

Eola nodded, actually looking sympathetic. “Afraid so. Is that not to your liking?”

“Liking??” Liriel screamed, the Thu'um in her voice making the room shake. “We had sex once. Once! That does not make me his wife!” She paused, turning anxious eyes on Eola. “I'm not his wife, right?”

Eola bit her lip, clearly trying to avoid laughing. “No,” she finally managed to say. “No, you're not. But he's clearly asking you if you want to be. Damn, Liriel, what did you do to him? He's not exactly open and trusting and here he is throwing himself at you?”

“I ran away,” Liriel whispered. “We had sex and... and I didn't want to but I couldn't stop myself and now I can't stop thinking about it or him. But I shouldn't want to, shouldn't want anyone this badly, not a human! And that was three weeks ago and I've not seen him since and it turns out he sent all these letters to my house in Markarth and this!” She shoved the three remaining letters at a dumbstruck Eola, who read them through, just shaking her head. 

“You had sex with the King in Rags and then _ran away,_ ” Eola gasped, tersely shoving the letters back at her. “Oh my actual gods, Liriel, I'm surprised he didn't have you killed for showing him up.”

“You should have seen his first letter,” Liriel growled. “He said he'd refrain from raining fire and lightning on me if I went back there and explained myself, the obnoxious son of a bitch.” 

Eola did actually giggle at that. “That does sound more like him,” she said fondly. “Oh Liriel. You get yourself into some scrapes sometimes, don't you, cariad?”

“Don't you start, I have enough of that from him!” Liriel snapped. Eola just petted her hand.

“I think we're close enough friends now to warrant it. Question is, what do you want from Madanach? Anything? Just a professional relationship? Just friends? Just a short love affair? Or are you ready to be Queen in Rags? I'd be all right with that, you know, happy for you in fact. Rather you than the last one.”

Liriel was going to have to ask Madanach about his ex-wife at some point, there was clearly a story there. Dead, yes, but Madanach had hinted at problems and twenty years with her husband in prison must have taken its toll regardless. However, that would mean talking to him again, which meant...

“Dammit Eola, I don't even know!” Liriel cried. “If I go back there, I'm just going to end up in bed with him again and I don't even know if I want it. Well, I want it all right, but I shouldn't, I'm an Altmer, we're meant to mate for life!”

“I think that's what he's offering,” said Eola softly. “Madanach's a traditionalist to the core, he would never give a torc to his mistress.”

“He'll be dead in twenty years!” Liriel cried. 

“That's a long enough time to be happy?” said Eola, a little confused. Liriel could cry. Not to her it wasn't.

“That's no time at all,” she said, despair settling in. “I'll have twenty years with him and then the rest of my life, anything up to eight hundred years of it, alone!”

“My arse will you, look at yourself!” Eola cried, losing patience. “Liriel, seriously, get back there. Wear his torc. Go and find him, tell him everything, have a long and detailed conversation about everything you're afraid of, and then have filthy, filthy sex with him until you're both incapable of moving. Then go be Reach-Queen. If that's only twenty years, it's better than never having him at all. Then mourn him, grieve him, fall apart and spend a decade wallowing in grief. Then move on and find someone else. They won't be him, but you don't need to spend your life alone. I am sure in eight hundred or so years, you're likely to meet someone who gets you going. Besides, Reachmen believe in reincarnation. Wait twenty years, it's entirely possible some other arrogant Reachman son of a bitch might cross paths with you and get under your skin in all sorts of interesting ways. This is the King in Rags we're talking about. He's not going to let a little thing like death stop him.”

Now that Liriel could well believe. Hands shaking, she gathered up the letters and slipped the torc away. Twenty years, give or take a few years. It was nothing really, barely the blink of an eye. But to Madanach, it was a lifetime, the rest of his lifetime in fact. Maybe it meant nothing to her _(but of course it meant something, it always meant something to an Altmer, they didn't do casual sex, they'd wait centuries for the right person)_ but it would mean everything to him. He'd ruined her for anyone else, made it impossible to stop thinking about him. The least he could do was compensate her. 

She gave Eola a hug goodbye and a kiss on the cheek and gathered her things. Time to confront the King in Rags. If she ever did become his queen, it'd be on her terms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course she was going to go back. ;)
> 
> Torcs are an ancient Celtic symbol of kingship, I think they go rather nicely with Forsworn armour, especially given you can't wear a crown with it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Liriel's absence, things have not been going brilliantly at Druadach Redoubt - their leader's never been someone to take losing a loved one well, and as if Madanach's mood swings weren't bad enough, there's the dragon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Madanach kept pestering me for a chapter from his POV for once, so here you go. Warnings for rough sex, biting, scratching, hatesex (sort of).

Fire everywhere. Smoke everywhere, and thank the old gods Druadach Redoubt was mostly inside, safe under the stone. As it was, the damn creature had killed two of his Forsworn already this week, and wasn't showing any signs of dying just yet, although they'd wounded it.

“Get under cover, it's coming back!” Madanach heard Kaie yell, recasting her armour and dual-casting fireballs at it before ducking behind a rock. Madanach sent two Thunderbolts after the thing, using the last of his magicka in the process, and then Borkul had shoved him to the ground, his new Orcish armour taking the brunt of the dragon fire as the thing flew overhead again.

“You do not need to keep doing that, Borkul,” Madanach growled. “I'm still quite capable.”

“Of course you are, boss,” Borkul said calmly, reaching for his bow. “But see here, if you die it's game over for the Forsworn. So you're not going to die on my watch, OK?”

If this dragon didn't die soon, it might be game over for all of them. He'd not entirely believed Kaie when she'd said the things were immortal, and he'd naively thought the Forsworn were more than a match for the beasts. And they would be – if the things didn't keep coming back to life somehow. This was the third time this week this one had attacked, and they'd killed it each time, congratulated themselves on a mighty victory – then in the night, the sound of another one flying overhead, a great Shout that sounded like slanta fo... and back it had come. 

Madanach could fight the Nords any day. He'd never reckoned on these bastards.

Kaie was staggering to her feet, raising her bow. She spared one glance for where he was pulling himself up.

“Get him inside,” she snapped, before turning back to let off another arrow at the beast. She'd been trained well. Too well. 

“Right you are, Princess,” said Borkul, grabbing his arm. “Come on, boss, let's get you under cover.”

“The Void I will, I'll die like a Reachman,” Madanach snapped, wishing his magicka would recover faster. “And you do not take orders from my daughter, you take them from me, understand?”

“Yes boss, and now you're going inside,” said Borkul calmly, starting to drag Madanach inside. Madanach flexed his fingers, wondering just how conductive to shock magic that metal armour was. If it was anything like Nord steel armour, Madanach could have the Orc weeping on the floor in about ten seconds. If his damn magicka would just recover...

“Anu save us, it's coming back!” Uraccen could be heard shouting over the dragon's roar. Forsworn arrows flew at it along with ice spikes and fireballs, and Madanach raised his own hands, prepared to make do with what magicka he did have. It would have to be enough.

“Da, get inside!” Kaie howled, blasted lightning at it. The dragon stopped in midair, hovering right above him now, and Madanach knew it was about to breathe fire again. He was already tired and in possession of a few nasty burns on his arms, but damned if he'd run like some craven coward. If Sithis took him today, so be it. He just wished he could see Liriel again...

“KRII LUN AUS!”

A wave of purple magic flew upwards from the south, engulfing the dragon and distracting it. Shrieking, it wheeled around to fight this new foe. Madanach raced out from behind the stockades to see who'd just rallied to their aid. He knew of only two people who could do that Shouting magic, one a mortal enemy and the other...

Fire flashed into the sky, one fireball missing but the other making contact. Madanach felt his heart skip as he saw her, Liriel Queen of Dragons, clad in her Forsworn armour, magic firing in both hands, mage armour making her seem to glow... and she was wearing his torc. She'd come back to him. He'd hoped she would, but there'd been a tiny part of him constantly whispering that she might not, and to actually lay eyes on her again... He could have wept. As it is, that was his Altmer queen out there, firing lightning at the thing with her Atronach backing her up, and she looked so horribly fragile next to that dragon.

“YOU WILL GET AWAY FROM HIM, DRAGON!” Liriel shouted. “Come, come face your death with some honour, Dovah!”

Madanach glanced swiftly at his Forsworn, all of whom were staring at Liriel in amazement, even Kaie who was meant to have a bit more discipline than that.

“Don't just stand there, kill that thing!” he shouted. “Don't let the Dragon-Queen do all the work!”

As one, bows were lifted, hands were raised, and the dragon faced a renewed gauntlet of fire, frost, lightning and poison arrows. The dragon ignored them all, crashing to the ground, right next to Liriel and preparing to strike. Liriel drew two swords, a long slender curved blade that crackled with lightning and the other a glowing golden one that gleamed with fire.

“This ends now!” Liriel hissed, and she began to move, ducking under the dragon's jaws as she span and weaved, blades flashing this way and that, carving the dragon along its side. Then it twisted and snapped at her and Liriel cried out, blood spurting out as its fangs made contact.

“LIRIEL!” Madanach shouted, feeling everything seeming to stop, the world going into slow motion as he sprinted towards the dragon, lightning firing from both hands, strongest spells he knew, shocking the beast. He could see it weakening, knew it wasn't going to take off any time soon, but it was still deadly and now those teeth were coming for him. He kept up the casting until his magicka ran out then drew his sword. 

_Queen of Dragons, if you are not dead (please don't be, please, not like this, not now) now would be the time to prove your title..._

Behind the dragon, a healing spell flared, the dragon roared in pain and turned from him again, and then Liriel was there, on top of the damn beast's head, as if she'd done this a hundred times before, grabbing it by the horns and that curved lightning sword slashing away at it, trying to find a weak spot. There was one, actually, right behind the beast's jaw but Liriel couldn't reach it from there. He could though.

Ignoring Kaie's cries of “Da, _get away from it!_ ” Madanach ran closer, sword at the ready. While the beast was still trying to throw Liriel off, Madanach's glass sword found the weak point behind its jaw and slid in to the beast's head, at the same time Liriel's curved blade sank into the top of its skull. The beast howled its last and sank to the ground, dead. Madanach retrieved his sword, cleaning the blade and sheathing it, watching as Liriel just crouched on the beast's skull, eyes closed and a healing spell sealing the last of her wounds, leaving only the faintest of scars. He'd just killed a dragon – they'd killed a dragon. Liriel Dragon-Queen, truly one to be feared. Madanach didn't fear a lot, and he didn't fear Liriel, but there was something about the way she'd thrown herself into the fight, something about her fury and her fearlessness and the skill with which she'd taken the thing apart that was going to straight to the baser parts of his brain. She truly was a fierce battlemage dragonslayer, and by Sithis he wanted her.

“What – what's happening?” Duach gasped. “Sir, it's on fire!”

Unlike every other dragon they'd killed – ha, that was a lie, it was the same one three times and they all knew it – the body wasn't just lying there prone. It was smoking, fire emerging from within and consuming from beneath. With Liriel still kneeling on the beast's head. 

“Liriel,” Madanach shouted. “Liriel!”

The Altmer shook herself down, retrieved her sword and leapt to the ground, wiping the blood off, sheathing it and getting to her feet, looking rather nervously at them all as the dragon burned behind her. Then it happened, white light boiling out of the dragon, spiralling up in a vortex and wrapping itself around Liriel. Madanach couldn't take his eyes off her, taking his headdress off and walking towards her, lightheaded and in some sort of trance, he must be, he'd never seen magic like this before.

“Queen of Dragons,” he breathed. She stepped forward, glancing up at him then away, an oddly shy and childish gesture from someone who'd just killed a dragon with no fear. She just nodded, looking awkward, and honestly, so she should after disappearing on him. He'd wondered constantly how to play this, whether to be harsh and make her beg for forgiveness or kinder and gentler while she told him how sorry she was, and hoping the camp wouldn't think him weak if he did take her back. Honestly it had gotten to the stage where even that was starting to seem like less and less of a problem, if she'd only just come back.

Well, she'd just walked in, killed a dragon and reduced it to a charred skeleton before their very eyes. Whatever happened next, Madanach guessed that them thinking him weak for not turning her away was no longer going to be an issue.

“Madanach,” she whispered and the little hitch in her voice, the faintest hint of nerves, an utterly fearless dragonslayer thrown off her game by him – Sithis yes, he liked that, he could stand to hear her whimpering his name all day.

“You came back,” he murmured, reaching to run fingers over that beautiful hair of hers. Liriel just nodded, unsure what to say. Madanach realised he didn't know what to say either, but he knew what he did want. He cupped her face in both hands, pulled her to him and kissed her. She whimpered again, and she really needed to stop doing that, it was utterly ravaging at all his reserves of self-control when she did that, but her lips were parting beneath his and she was kissing him back.

Behind him the camp burst out into spontaneous cheering. Liriel broke off the kiss immediately, looking absolutely mortified. Madanach grabbed her wrist before she could run off again. 

“Don't run,” he murmured. “It's all right, I can get us a little privacy, just don't leave until we've talked.”

“Arrogant swine,” Liriel breathed and Madanach didn't even care, as long as she was back and talking to him. “I'm not – I'm only wearing this torc because of the fire enchantment. I am not the damn Reach-Queen!”

Ah, so she'd found out its significance then. He'd actually had the idea while watching her dance at the party, taken one of the Red Eagle Redoubt contingent aside to commission it and signed off a writ authorising requisitioning of the materials from Kolskeggr Mine and then forgotten about it until the thing arrived two weeks after she'd left him and he'd come close to giving up on seeing her again. He'd left the thing on his strategy table and disappeared into his tent with a large bottle of jenever without the tonic and stayed there until Kaie had tentatively come knocking and quietly said the books from Nepos had arrived and did he want her to get the torc melted down? He'd taken the books, told her to leave the torc for now. He'd asked Nepos for everything he could get on the Altmer people, culture, religion, social and sexual mores, biology, courtship and marriage, everything. He must have spent about three days non-stop reading and making notes and at the end of it all, he'd realised everything. That Altmer were not Forsworn, Altmer didn't love lightly and they treated sex as a deadly serious sacrament, to be reserved for only the deepest connections, and that their long lives meant that those deep connections were usually reserved for other mer. That while there'd been some great human-Altmer love stories, they always ended tragically when the human died and the heartbroken mer left behind shut themselves away, pining for the rest of their lives for their lost love. That Altmer mated for life, they'd wait centuries for the right person and they rarely gave themselves to anyone until they were sure, usually after a lengthy courtship of decades. And he'd likely just taken her maidenhood after barely knowing her, because he'd been lonely and emotional and a little drunk and she'd been there, so very very beautiful and actually worrying about him. No wonder she'd run away.

_But I don't have decades, Liriel..._

“You wear that, and every Forsworn in the Reach will know you,” he said, hand not leaving her cheek, fingers tracing those fine Altmer cheekbones. “They'll know whose you are, know not to raise a finger to you.”

“You do not own me, Madanach,” Liriel hissed, and wasn't that just like her, proud to the last. One of the many things he'd come to love about this woman. 

“No, no one owns a dragon, I know,” Madanach murmured, planting gentle kisses along her cheekbones, and that was setting her off whimpering again. “But to love one and not be destroyed in dragon fire – that's something I want the world to know about.”

“You're getting very close to me doing just that,” Liriel whispered, but her breath was hitching in her throat and her cheeks were flushed and Madanach remembered how she'd felt while he was inside her and the way she'd tasted and the sounds she'd made and by Sithis he wanted that again.

“But not there yet – noted,” he said, trying to keep the smirk off his face and not really succeeding. “Come on, come inside. We should talk.”

Liriel nodded, taking his hand and letting herself be led in.

“You are far too soft on her, Da,” said Kaie, arms folded and glaring at Liriel, who just looked away guiltily. 

“She just killed a dragon for good,” Madanach told her. While he loved Kaie dearly, treasured her as he had all his children, she could be rather too overprotective sometimes. “That, daughter, is something I intend to remain on good terms with.”

“And if it had been a pig-ugly Orc or a strapping Nord warrior man with that sort of power, would you be so eager to have them around then?” Kaie returned, clearly not backing down so easily.

“ _Kaie,_ ” Madanach growled. She was his daughter and he loved her, but even so, there were limits.

“Fine, fine,” Kaie sighed, knowing when she was beaten. Instead of nagging her father, she turned to Liriel, glaring at her. “You break my father's heart again, I will not be so generous, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” Liriel said quietly. “I'm sorry.”

“Good, now get in there,” she said tersely and stalked off, shouting orders to the rest to start clearing up and lining up for medical treatment. Speaking of which... Madanach's own healing spells flared, and the burns on his arms faded away. Much better.

“My daughter can be a little overprotective,” Madanach sighed, leading Liriel into the deserted camp. “She means well though. She lost her mother and her sisters, I'm all she's got left. She's determined to not lose me too.”

Liriel didn't answer, just following him inside in silence. Oh good, it was going to be like that. Well, this conversation was always going to be an awkward one, but he'd hoped she'd have at least something to say for herself. It wasn't that he'd never initiated anyone sexually before, but they'd always been other Forsworn, desperate to get it out of the way so they could claim adulthood, grateful and pleased afterwards and parting on friendly terms, with no hard feelings on either side. When he'd married Mireen, he'd known damn well he'd not been her first and he'd been quite all right with that. This was entirely new territory. 

Finally they reached his tent, and he led her inside. He'd had it enlarged and a double bed installed – not a terribly fancy one, a simple wooden frame with straw and furs, nice and low maintenance but better than his previous bedding and more importantly, shareable. That was if Liriel didn't run away again. Madanach stretched out on it, watching her. She was staring at him, outright terror in her eyes.

“For the love of Anu, I'm not going to molest you,” Madanach snapped. “Take the chair if you'd prefer.” It came out harsher than he'd intended, but she nodded meekly and slipped into the wooden chair, still looking as if she was about to bolt any second. Then she saw the books on the dresser next to her. 

“Oh gods,” she whispered. “You've been...”

“Studying, yes, I needed to know what obscure Altmer courtship custom I'd violated,” Madanach said, watching her as he propped himself up. “Imagine my surprise to find out the typical Altmer courtship takes about ten years before there's even any physical contact, and that it can take another ten before any sex happens and that usually requires a formal betrothal first, and that while Altmer come of age at fifty, it's near unheard of for anyone under a hundred to even commence courtship, never mind marry. Liriel, if you don't mind me asking, how old are you?” A question he really should have asked a damn sight sooner. He'd just assumed she was an adult, capable of making her own decisions, and she seemed like it, but what if he'd been wrong? Sithis help him, please let her be of age...

“One hundred and thirty three,” Liriel whispered, cheeks blazing as she stared at the floor. Madanach felt all thought processes grind to a halt, the abstract knowledge that Altmer lived for centuries if illness or violence didn't get in the way having in no way prepared him for the actual knowledge that his Dragon-Queen was twice his age, and had already been of age for a good decade or two before he was even born.

“I... see,” was all he felt qualified to say on that, and suddenly all those depressingly tragic human-mer love stories began to make sense. If he saw out the next twenty-five years he'd consider himself lucky, but in that time, Liriel wouldn't even age. The books had said converting Altmer ages to human involved taking fifty years off the Altmer's age to find their years of adulthood, divide by ten and then adding sixteen years to represent a human childhood, making her approximately twenty-four or equivalent, which seemed about right to him. Which he could live with, but for her, it'd be the equivalent of marrying someone who was going to age and die before her very eyes and within two or three years of the wedding, and she came from a culture where falling in love again after losing a spouse was uncommon and even a little scandalous.

Of course she'd run screaming. Frankly, it was surprising she'd come back at all. And if he was in any way a good and unselfish man, a decent human being, he'd tell her he was sorry, let her go and send her away to find love with a fellow mer instead.

Madanach the King in Rags was none of those things.

“You don't want me any more, do you?” she whispered, not meeting his eyes. The bed creaked as he rolled off it, coming to sit opposite her.

“I didn't say that,” Madanach said, taking her hands. “Liriel, macreena, why didn't you tell me I was your first?”

Liriel let out a sob, still not daring to look at him. 

“I didn't want – didn't want to...”

Didn't want to what? Have sex? But she'd said yes, she'd screamed his name and begged for more, pulled him to her, come undone in his arms, she'd appeared to be a very willing and enthusiastic participant or he'd have stopped, he had some standards!

“Liriel? Liriel, talk to me. Tell me why. I meant what I said in that letter, you've done nothing shameful or wrong.”

“Shameful??” Liriel did look up at that, fury rising in her eyes, and that was his Dragon-Queen all right, all proud and angry and ready to devour the unwary. “What would you know about shame, you've never been ashamed of anything in your life!!!”

A fair point, now he came to think about it...

“Do you have any idea what you've done??” she snarled, yanking her hands out of his and prodding him in the chest. He had a feeling this was going to end badly, and yet at the same time, he could sense some power rising in her, all the rage of an angry dragon, and Sithis help him, he couldn't help but want to see it unleashed. 

“No, what have I done?” he asked, beginning to smile, knowing it was the sort of response that had always driven Mireen up the wall. Liriel it seemed was little different in that regard. She leapt off the chair, jabbing at his chest.

“You've ruined me, you selfish son of a bitch!” she shouted. “You just used me and you didn't care about anything else but getting me right where you wanted me, and now you've had me and you won't even leave me alone, you keep sending letters and expensive gifts and calling me Dragon-Queen and wanting to talk to me and... and... if the Altmer love of my life turned up tomorrow, I'd probably end up turning him away because _I can't stop thinking about you!!!_ ” She'd been jabbing at him throughout and as she shrieked the last phrase, the tent shaking as she did, she shoved him backwards on to the bed and pounced. Madanach caught her as she landed on top of him, face twisted in fury and yet still beautiful, fiery and furious and passionate and alive as he'd always known she was under that cultured exterior, always known and now he'd got in deep enough to see it first hand. To love a dragon and not be devoured – this was what he'd hoped for.

“Nor can I, Dragon-Queen,” he growled. “Believe me, if I could have got you out of my head, I would.” Grabbing her by the hair, he pulled her to him for a bruising kiss that elicited an outraged shriek from her that just made him harder. Sithis, he'd missed her. Liriel was straddling him now, grabbing his upper arms and her nails digging in, clearly stronger than she looked. He slid one hand down to grab the back of her neck while the other slid down her back, grabbing her backside and pressing her hard up against him so that she could not possibly miss his arousal. He could hear her growling, arms finding their way under him so she could pull him closer, grinding against him and Sithis he needed to get out of these clothes, get her naked _now_ , feel skin against skin, get inside her, claim her again as his. He could feel her fingers grab his hair, pulling his head back, forcing him to stare up into fierce golden eyes, delicately slanted in a way a Forsworn woman's eyes rarely were – but when it did happen, it was considered a sign of great beauty.

“Everything about wanting you is wrong,” she hissed at him, teeth bared, but the wriggle of her hips that sent jolts of pleasure through his cock gave the lie to her words.

“So leave, I'm not stopping you,” he growled, knowing full well she wasn't going to stop now.

“Never,” she snarled. “You did this to me, you live with the consequences.” In one swift move, she'd swept the fur away from his right shoulder and sank her teeth into his flesh. Madanach bit his lip, muffling the cry of pain, but he'd suffered worse and more to the point it meant her self-control was gone completely and she was his again, his Liriel, back in his arms. He reached out and began stripping her top off, revealing those exquisite breasts again, but leaving the torc, she could keep that on. A reminder of whose she was. Liriel gasped but didn't stop him, shifting back as he sat up, burying his head in her chest, kissing and nipping and leaving little bite marks all over her skin. Liriel's fingers began to start taking his armour off as well, and he left her breasts alone long enough to assist with getting his top half off before returning to them. He wasn't gentle, but nor was she, howling in fury and raking her nails down his back, hard enough to break the skin but he didn't care, pain meant you were alive and the opposite of love was not hate but cold indifference. Mireen had taught him that. 

But now was not the time to think of her, not with a beautiful elf in his arms. Grabbing her hips, he spun her over and flung her on her back, crawling on top of her and shedding the rest of his clothes before helping her with hers. Liriel moaned, opening her legs and a little exploration with his fingers revealed she was already soaking wet. No need to drag anything out then.

“I hate you,” Liriel hissed even as she spread her legs and angled her hips upwards.

“I know,” Madanach told her, smiling as he entered her, driving deep inside her and no resistance this time but still gloriously tight, soft flesh parting before him and seeming to suck him in, and she didn't cry out in pain either, just a long, low moan as she flung her head back. Madanach kept right on fucking her, hard and fast, luxuriating in how it felt as she clung on to him, digging her nails into his back, crying out a litany of please and yes and harder and oh gods, Madanach, please, and she was his, all his, no one else's, no one else had ever got to her like this, no one else had ever seen her broken and despoiled like this, no one had ever heard her beg them to fuck her – no one but him. Let the entire camp hear this if they liked – but watching Liriel fall apart in pleasure was reserved for him alone.

“Madanach, yes, yes, damn you, yes,” she cried, on the verge of sobbing as she clung on to him and Madanach couldn't take it any more.

“Liriel, yes, mine, yes,” he rasped, burying his face in the crook of her neck and then he was coming, losing himself to the moment as he thrust into her, moaning as he spilled inside her, thrusting a few more times before collapsing on the bed, carefully withdrawing from her as he did. Liriel was lying back, unmoving, eyes closed, face flushed and breathing heavily, clearly as worn out as he was. Thank the gods, he could still keep up with her. 

For a few moments, neither of them moved, too worn out or not wanting to shatter the moment with words. At least she'd not run away yet. Finally Liriel got up, wincing, and reached for a leather cloth from the pile Madanach had recently acquired for precisely the reason she needed them – post-coital clean-up.

“I'll have that when you're done,” Madanach murmured sleepily. Liriel nodded and passed him another one. Clean-up done, Liriel crawled under the furs, shivering in the cool air. Not running then, but she was awfully quiet, curled in a little ball, back to him. Worrying. Madanach joined her under the covers, spooning in behind her, one hand resting gently on her upper arm.

“Cariad,” he murmured. “Are you all right?”

She just shuddered, giving a little sob. Not all right.

“Liriel?” Not again, he didn't think he could stand to lose her again, not after this, she was his, he loved her, he'd give her anything she wanted _(except the centuries by her side, the one thing she really wanted)_. “Cariad, don't... don't tell me you didn't want that.” Another shudder, and he realised with faint horror she was sobbing quietly. 

“Cariad...” he whispered, stroking her hair, feeling utterly wretched and this was not how it was meant to go, not at all. He hated feeling helpless, the whole reason he'd revitalised the Forsworn was because he couldn't sit idle and do nothing when people needed him.

“You win, all right?” she spat, still huddled and facing away from him. “You win, you've got me, apparently I can't stay away from you or stop touching you or keep any kind of control over myself when you're around. Congratulations, Madanach, you've got the Dragon-Queen in your bed. Happy now?”

Of course not, not seeing her like this. “Liriel,” he murmured in her ear. “Don't be like this, please. Makes me feel like I just forced you.”

Liriel made a little choking noise. “What more can you possibly want from me?” she whispered.

“You to love me back.” The words were out before he could stop them. Anu help him, if she'd not guessed before, she knew it now. For a second, Liriel didn't react – then she was crying for real, turning around and snuggling into his arms, howling on his shoulder.

“Liriel,” he sighed, kissing the top of her head and holding her close. “Liriel, I'm sorry, maybe it's too soon...”

“You're going to be dead in thirty years!” Liriel howled. “And there's nothing I or anyone else can do to stop it! You're going to break my heart!”

He really should let her go, send her away, never see her again, let her get over him in peace...

“You'd rather leave now and never see me again?” he murmured. Liriel shuddered, shaking her head. He could still feel the torc round her neck, the metal warm from where it had been next to her skin – for as long as she wore it, she was his and he drew comfort from that at least. 

“No,” she said in a tiny voice he could barely hear, but he could feel his heart skip. “No, no, I love you, no... I love you.” All the fight went out of her, and she just sagged in his arms, head resting against him.

“I love you,” she whispered, and only she could say it like it was an announcement of impending doom. Madanach pulled her close to him, smiling into her hair, and it was wrong to feel overjoyed when she sounded so defeated, but he didn't care, he adored her and she was his now, really and truly his. 

“I love you too, macreena,” he breathed into her ear. “For the rest of my life, I will love you.”

“But not for the rest of mine,” Liriel said, sounding utterly broken, and there were still tears rolling down her cheeks. Madanach tilted her head up to look at her face, guilt gnawing at him to see her like this, but not strongly enough to send her away over.

“The Dance never ends, macreena,” he whispered. “We move in and out, but unless we fall from it completely through soul trap or vampirism, we come back. Anu and Sithis are always vying with each other, but they always balance out and when our time in the Void is done, Anu brings us back to the world for the next steps in the Dance. Cariad, I promise I'll come back, if you promise to look for me. You won't be alone forever. Just don't shut yourself away from love after I die.”

To his surprise, Liriel actually laughed. “Of course you will,” she said fondly. “Should have known you won't let a little thing like dying stop you.”

“Never,” Madanach promised. “The Dance doesn't end until the world does, Liriel.”

Liriel lifted her eyes to his, a look of dawning horror in them, as if she knew something he didn't. Then her eyes narrowed, her face all steely determination.

“I will make sure of it,” she said fiercely. “I swear it as the Dragonborn, the Dance won't stop while I draw breath.”

Odd, why would it stop? Then Madanach thought of the dragons, unkillable, unstoppable, ravaging the Reach and probably elsewhere, and he could do little to stop them. No one could... except Liriel. The Dragonborn apparently, and while he paid little attention to old Nord legends as a rule, perhaps he ought to make an exception for this. Seeing as she was his queen in waiting and all.

“I think,” he said softly, stroking her cheek, “it's about time you told me what this whole Dragonborn business is really about, don't you? How did you do it? How did you make a permanent end of that dragon and why are they coming back after so long dead? I asked Keirine, but she told me that some things were hidden even from her.”

Liriel nodded, and it was clear that while these things were hidden from his talented sister, his talented queen-to-be knew them all too well. 

“I'll tell you,” she promised. “But you can't tell anyone else, not yet.”

Madanach promised to keep quiet. No reason for the rest of the Forsworn to know after all, and having insight into the dragons not available to the others was a valuable thing indeed.

“And you have to promise not to freak out and go all overprotective on me,” said Liriel firmly. “I am quite capable of looking after myself, and I can do what's needed, but not if you're loudly insisting that you're not letting your queen go into battle on her own. I don't interfere with you running the Forsworn, you will leave the dragons to me, right?”

Madanach was actually quite happy to leave the dragon-fighting to her. After facing down the same one three times, he'd love to be able to delegate dealing with the blasted creatures to someone else.

“Agreed. Now tell me what's going on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we are, more smut for you and the two of them back together. I partly wanted to get inside Madanach's head for a bit, and partly wanted to show Liriel from the outside, prove that even though the King in Rags has swept her off her feet, she's still a damn Dragonborn, and there's not really any such thing as a non-badass Dragonborn.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after and it's the usual of getting to know each other, meeting the family, some nice gifts and learning the fate of the Reach hinges on them both. No big deal, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a slow chapter, but I had some setting up to do before the pace kicks up next time.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!!!”

Kaie stopped dead in her tracks, rolled her eyes and turned to walk away again. Odvan had assured her the sex had stopped, but it seemed it had been replaced with a massive argument instead. Lovely.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NO??” Liriel shouted back, the ground actually shaking when she raised her voice. “YOU PROMISED ME, MADANACH!!! You said you wouldn't interfere!”

“THAT WAS BEFORE YOU TOLD ME YOU WERE GOING TO TAKE ON THE IMMORTAL LORD OF THE DRAGONS ON YOUR OWN! WOMAN, HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND??”

The what now? Immortal lord of the – right. Good luck to her, Kaie was very glad that wasn't her job. 

“It has to be me, Madanach, I'm the damn Dragonborn!” Liriel shouted. “No one else can do it, that's the whole point! Otherwise the world ends and so does your precious Dance of Life and Death!”

Kaie had to sit down at that point, and the other Forsworn were all huddled around camp fires, trying to look busy but in reality eavesdropping. All looked concerned and Kaie didn't blame them. The end of the world, as in the actual world ending, as in everyone dying for good. Dragons destroying the world because no one could kill them. No one except Liriel.

“Take me with you then-”

“NO! YOU ARE NOT COMING, YOU HAVE A REBELLION TO LEAD!”

Kaie wondered exactly how angry her father would be if she hit him with a paralysis spell and tied him up to give Liriel a chance to escape. Very, probably, but she was swiftly coming to the opinion that her father was more than a little crazy and desperate measures were occasionally required when dealing with lunatics.

“Fine, fine, take someone else then. Anyone in this camp, anyone at all-”

“MADANACH!”

Silence. Then Liriel speaking again in more conciliatory tones.

“Look, it's very sweet that you want to protect and look after me, and I do appreciate it, I really do. But I do have other friends and allies, including a housecarl in Markarth and a few other people who'd all help if need be. Madanach, I have this under control. I know what I'm doing. Please trust me?”

No response for a bit, then Madanach's gruff tones again.

“You're not to get yourself killed, Dragon-Queen. You're to come back to me alive and well, got it?”

“Yes, Madanach,” and that was Liriel sounding very meek and submissive, which was most unlike her.

“Don't suppose you could purposely not fight dragons attacking the Nords, could you?”

“Madanach...” and that wasn't submissive at all, that was a dangerous growl that portended violence. Or possibly round two, if there was actually a difference when it came to those two.

“Fine, fine, have it your way,” Madanach sighed. “But if you can persuade any of the dragons to work for you, I have a whole list of military targets.”

“Give me a list and the coin, I'll see what I can do. What? I'm not working for free, Madanach. I'm Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, we charge for our services.”

“You're Reach-Queen!” Oh gods, why did her father never know when to shut up??

“I'M NOT REACH-QUEEN! WE ARE NOT MARRIED! YOU ARE NOT REACH-KING YET ANYWAY!” There was a masculine cry of pain and the sound of something heavy crashing to the floor. “And I am NOT wearing that around you, it appears to only encourage you.”

“Oh, I'll tell you what encourages me, woman.” There was an outraged shriek from Liriel, swiftly muffled then trailing off into soft moans. Oh Sithis, they were at it again. Clearly they were going to be one of those couples where every argument ended up in bed.

Kaie had had enough – besides some poor messenger from Hag's End had just turned up with a message for her father and the last thing the poor man needed was to have to put up with her father's love life being broadcast all around the camp.

“Da!” she called loudly from just outside the tent. “Could you put Liriel down for five minutes? Keirine's sent a messenger for you.”

“Sithis' sake, what does she want now, I was only there last week,” Madanach cursed. “Fine, fine, give me a few minutes.”

Five minutes later, Madanach emerged, Forsworn armour only a little dishevelled, smoothing his hair into place. Kaie wisely didn't comment on the bruising and scratch marks visible underneath it, and Madanach swiftly cast a healing spell to get rid of them. Not long after, Liriel emerged, torc gone and clad in her Archmage Robes, also casting a healing spell. Her hair was loose around her shoulders for once and her lip gloss needed reapplying but she looked presentable all things considered.

“Where's this messenger?” Madanach growled. Kaie pointed to the far end of the camp where a young Forsworn man in his late teens was waiting nervously. Madanach strode off to talk to him, Liriel trailing behind. 

“Not running away again, I take it?” Kaie murmured to Liriel as they followed him.

“Not if he behaves himself and keeps a civil tongue in his head,” Liriel replied, looking rather pointedly at Madanach. Kaie allowed herself a smile at that. Her father did have a rather strong personality, to put it mildly. Someone without some steel in her wouldn't last five minutes. 

“So likely to be flouncing out in the next half hour then,” Kaie grinned. Liriel did laugh at that, shaking her head wearily. Kaie patted her on the arm.

“Just so you know, if you feel the need to use some of the lesser shock magic spells on him, we're all quite prepared to turn a blind eye.”

“Hasn't got to that stage yet,” Liriel sighed. “Hoping it won't, but by the Eight, he's impossible.”

“Welcome to life with the King in Rags,” Kaie said cheerfully. “Now you know how we all feel.”

Liriel could only groan as they approached the terrified teenager currently being stared down by said King in Rags. 

“Well? Spit it out, man, what does my sister want now.”

“She, er, she wants to see you, sir,” the Forsworn said nervously. “She says she's seen a few things in her auguries that you should know about. Also, er, she says... she says to bring the Dragonborn with you. I don't know what that means, sir, but she said you'd know...”

Liriel stopped short at that, staring at Madanach. 

“She knows about that?” she gasped. “What did you tell her?” 

“Not a lot, but that's never stopped her knowing things,” said Madanach. “Well, cariad, looks like you're going to meet my sister tomorrow.” He turned back to the shivering man – a boy really. “Fine, tell her I'll come see her, Dragonborn in tow. Dismissed.”

The young Forsworn nodded and fled, all too eager to have an excuse to get away from Madanach. Madanach took Liriel's hand in his, lost in thought.

“Should I be worried?” Liriel whispered. Madanach did smile at that, patting her on the arm.

“No. I think she's curious about you. Gods know what she's found out, but it could be interesting. At any rate, if she wants to see you, it means you really are one of us now. Congratulations.”

Liriel wasn't sure whether this was a good thing or not, but she supposed it came with the territory. _Mara help me. I'm the consort of the Reach-King in waiting._ Not officially, of course. But that was what Madanach was treating her as and now his sister wanted to meet her? His Hagraven sister with all sorts of dark magic at her command? Liriel wasn't scared of a lot, but this was worrying her. This had just all got way out of hand, but there was no going back now. She'd broken, given in, surrendered and let him take what he wanted. She'd told him she loved him, and meant it. It wasn't even the sex and the way his touch set her on fire. It was the way he'd hold her afterwards, the fiery protectiveness... the feeling of belonging. The little acts of kindness when he wasn't getting under her skin. The fact that he'd even offered to come with her to fight Alduin. He had no idea what he was getting into, but the fact he'd not even shown the slightest hint of fear or awe over her being Dragonborn was very nice indeed. Maybe it helped with him not being a Nord and not having known or cared what a Dragonborn was in any way until the practical reality of dragons forced him to... but Liriel had a feeling that he'd have reacted the same way anyway, even if he'd been born a Nord. He was strong. Brave. Fearless. How he did it, Liriel had no idea, how he could remain resilient in the face of time ticking relentlessly down for him, she couldn't understand, but one thing she needed very much in her life was someone strong, someone there for her who could take her in his arms and persuade her that against all evidence to the contrary, everything was going to be all right. Somehow this human, this King of the Forsworn, a rebel and outlaw that the rest of the world saw as little better than a wild beast, was able to do just that. Liriel didn't understand it at all, but Lady Mara's workings defied logic and understanding sometimes. All she could do was trust in her goddess and give in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

That night proved to be a relaxed one – everyone was in a good mood, everyone seemed pleased to see her, the alcohol was flowing and Madanach was rarely far from her side. While he could never be called doting exactly, whenever he could he'd be sitting next to her, arms around her and smiling proudly at her. Every so often, he would hold her that bit tighter or kiss the top of her head, seemingly unable to stop touching her. Liriel just closed her eyes and basked in the affection. Now she'd actually made the decision, a weight had lifted off her shoulders. It was done, affections given, her virginity gone, her fate sealed. She was Dragonborn after all, her life was not one of ease and comfort. The argument she'd had with Madanach over going to fight Alduin had reminded her that she might not live for centuries herself – if things went wrong, it could easily be Madanach howling his grief out over her remains. Why worry? He was alive, so was she, why not just rest in his arms, admit she adored the temperamental madman and enjoy him while she had him? There was certainly much to enjoy. 

She'd been welcomed back as if she'd never been away.

“About time you showed up,” Borkul had growled, slapping her on the back. “Boss has been a pain to be around since you left.”

“So true,” Uraccen had put in. “The amount of snapping and snarling and occasional impromptu demonstrations of Destruction magic we've had to put up with. It was getting to the stage I actually started to look forward to the dragon attacks.”

“Oh dear,” said Liriel, feeling a little guilty. “I'm really quite sorry.”

“Not as sorry as we all were,” Duach put in. “Kaie and Borkul have been running interference to keep him away from the younger camp members, but we had at least two transfer out to Hag's End in tears. Liriel, I don't know about all this dragon business, but please stay. Visit as often as you like. He's so much nicer to be around when you're here.”

Liriel could believe it. The veterans of Cidhna Mine were Madanach's sworn blood-brothers now, close to him in a way few not his kin were, sworn to serve and protect with their lives, and utterly devoted. However, that devotion was often shown by taking full advantage of the greater intimacy and teasing their king in a way no one else would ever have dared. They wouldn't whitewash his behaviour either, they'd tell it like it was. If they were all agreed he'd been a daedra to live with, he almost certainly had been.

“In that case, I'll have to come back as often as I can,” she promised, raising her jenever glass. Everyone was willing to drink to that. Including Madanach as he reappeared with another bottle.

“You come back whenever you're not needed slaying dragons or murdering the innocent,” Madanach murmured in her ear. “I want you with me.”

Liriel sighed happily as his arms went round her again. This felt as good as had been promised, just this melting away and everything seeming bright and happy and wonderful. Of course, she'd come back, whenever she could, whenever the world didn't need her... or her daughters. Daughters who Madanach didn't even know about, and who certainly weren't coming to live here. She'd have to tell him, she supposed, she'd met his daughter after all. As to whether he'd ever be able to be any kind of father to them, she didn't know, but she had a feeling he'd be good at it. Kaie hadn't turned out too badly, and if he'd lost his oldest daughter, he might be quite willing to parent her two. It was just she wanted them to have some stability, not growing up here with no creature comforts and in constant danger of enemy attack, and taking Madanach back to Whiterun was not an option. She just couldn't see him settling down as a house-husband, cooking her meals or running a little general store to keep busy. More likely start running the rebellion from their bedroom, using her dining table to plot raids on and discussing business with various visiting Forsworn agents at all hours and honestly, she couldn't put it past him to disguise himself and start cultivating the Jarl's court or the Companions or something, and Heimskr's days would certainly be numbered. No, Madanach was never coming to Whiterun to live. 

“Whenever I can get here,” said Liriel, snuggling into his arms. Madanach kissed her forehead, smiling.

“I hear you managed to persuade Igmund to give you a title,” he murmured. “How did you manage that?”

“You're not angry, are you?” she asked, nervous. “Only he was feeling guilty over imprisoning me, so I took advantage.”

“And so you should,” Madanach laughed. “Would that we could all get compensated so easily.”

A general roar of laughter at that one.

“Yes, but you lot were all guilty,” Liriel pointed out. 

“So were you,” Kaie laughed. “Just not of the things you got sent down for.” More laughter. Liriel had to admit they did have a point. 

“So, you have a housecarl in Markarth now,” said Madanach casually. “I hope he's been no trouble.”

Trouble? No, no trouble, in fact he'd persuaded her to come back here and agreed to keep her secret. A secret she was beginning to suspect he'd guessed anyway.

“He seems lovely,” said Liriel, recalling just how Madanach had said he'd used to smuggle things in and out of Cidhna Mine. Kaie visiting... and an agent in the guards. “Does he work for you, by any chance?”

“Not any more, he's sworn to your service now,” said Madanach a tad wistfully. “But he did use to be my main man among the guards. He's only a Nord on his mother's side. No love for the Silver-Bloods there, I promise you. You can trust him. Only orders he has now are to guard you with his life.”

“Orders from you, I take it,” Liriel sighed, rolling her eyes. Honestly, did Madanach always have to interfere quite so much in her life?

“Correct,” Madanach grinned. “I don't need him in the guards now I'm out here, and it's safer for him if he's not on regular guard duty. Nepos persuaded him to volunteer for the thankless task of trying to keep you out of trouble instead. If you won't take me or anyone here, take him with you. He's a good warrior.”

Madanach did have a point, she couldn't keep relying on Eola, even if she was one of the best mages Liriel had ever known. Also it meant she might actually be able to bring him here with her.

“I suppose you won't object to him accompanying me here now and then?” she asked. Always best to check these things.

“Not at all, be good to see the boy again,” said Madanach, faint smile on his face. So they did know each other. Interesting. No wonder Argis had been so confident about Madanach's feelings. Of course, she'd have to make sure he wasn't feeding any information back to Madanach first. Last thing she needed was a spy at her back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Later that night, and Liriel was curled up in Madanach's bed. After dozing off in his arms by the fire, he'd picked her up and carried her in and tucked her up amongst the furs.

“You don't have to do this,” she'd murmured sleepily. He'd stroked her hair and kissed her cheek.

“Dragon-Queens deserve a proper bed when they're tired,” he'd said, leaving her to sleep, and she'd not been able to stop smiling. Why she'd resisted this, she had no idea. This whole having someone to take care of her thing was turning out very nicely indeed. 

When she woke, it was to find him there, curled up behind her, arms around her and gently nuzzling her neck. 

“Yes please,” she whispered. Half-asleep she might be, but she could stand to be woken up by Madanach having sex with her again. 

“Don't get any ideas,” Madanach murmured. “You're not getting ravaged this morning. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't still dreaming. Not every day I get to wake up next to a beautiful woman.”

Liriel sighed happily, all her fears forgotten. She was warm, comfortable, alive and loved. Life didn't get a lot better than this. 

Madanach's hand had traced its way down her side, coming to rest on her stomach. She felt him tense suddenly.

“Liriel. I didn't... I didn't leave you with child, did I?”

No, of course not, Lydia had gone out to Arcadia's Cauldron to procure a potion that would prevent that little problem, and Liriel had stopped off at the Hag's Cure in Markarth before coming here to see about ensuring there was no further risk of unfortunate consequences. 

“It's fine, Madanach. I'm taking potions now. I know you probably don't want any more children.”

Madanach was silent, just holding on to her. “It's not that I don't want them,” he said finally. “But I'm not in any position to provide the life I'd like for them. Mireen and I had four, you know, four beautiful little girls. Now Kaie's the only one left. If I had to bury another child... no. Also, if I have one with you, I'd never live it to see it grow up. It's not a good idea, Liriel. I'm sorry. I hope you didn't have desperate hopes of being a mother.”

“Oh don't worry, I've already got two of them,” said Liriel sleepily. “They're lovely, you'd like them.”

“Sorry, what??” Madanach had let her go, sitting up. “Liriel, I'm willing to believe half the Summerset Isles are untouched virgins waiting for their one true love, but I'm not willing to believe you're capable of two virgin births.”

Oops. She really should have told him earlier. 

“They're adopted,” she told him, rolling over and patting his arm. “I know, I know, I shouldn't have, my life's not really compatible with parenthood, but they were so cute and I just couldn't help myself.”

“Sithis, Liriel...” Madanach was looking faintly horrified. “Please tell me you didn't murder their parents just so you could adopt their children.”

“No!” Liriel protested before realising she'd done precisely that with Sissel. “Well, only with one of them. But her father was horrible to her! He was beating and ill-treating her, Madanach, I had to. She even thanked me for it afterwards. Said I was the best mama ever.”

“And they think I'm a monster,” Madanach murmured, lying back on the bed. “What's the story with the other one?”

“Her mama died and her aunt and uncle threw her out,” Liriel whispered. “She was begging on the streets of Whiterun. Every time I saw her, it just broke my heart. So when I finally had the money for a house, I had a bedroom put in and went straight out and adopted her. I mean, she's not a mer, she's human, they both are but I couldn't help it, they needed me...”

Madanach had lain back down again, drawing her into his arms.

“You've got two human children, and you were afraid to love me?”

“Oh, it's not the same,” Liriel began, until the horrible thought occurred to her that no, it'd be a thousand times worse, they were her babies...

“If you think losing a lover will break your heart, losing a child is worse,” Madanach said quietly. “Eithne killed in front of me. Amaleen dead a few years later. My youngest... I don't even want to talk about her. Still breaks my heart just thinking about it. Losing my marriage was nothing in comparison.”

“What happened to your wife? She died?” Liriel asked, snuggling closer to him, anything to banish the thought of watching her darlings age and die before her eyes. 

“She left me,” said Madanach gruffly, holding her close and not looking at her. “After Eithne died, Mireen blamed me and left me to rot in Cidhna Mine – I'm sure she could have got me out of there if she'd wanted. Mireen was not a weakling, although I'm sure it wasn't easy for her with me locked up either. Then Amaleen died and she still sent not a word herself. Then we lost our youngest, and that's when I knew we were done. Maybe I could have saved Eithne, but my youngest, my little princess, born when I was Reach-King in truth... she was gone and it was Mireen's fault. Then she Ascended, and that was just an insult, to do that with a spouse still living. They tell me she died when those Akaviri tore through Karthspire. Good, if I could find the one who'd done it, I'd shake them by the hand.”

Liriel winced as she remembered tearing through the place with Delphine and Esbern, slaughtering all in her way until she finally faced down their Hagraven, fighting fire with fire until the creature lay dead. She had no idea she'd later end up in bed with the woman's ex-husband.

“It was me,” she confessed. “Those Akaviri, they're Blades, sworn to serve the Dragonborn – and it was us who destroyed Karthspire. I killed your wife, Madanach. I'm so sorry.”

Silence. Madanach stared at her, disbelieving. Then he smiled and then he laughed. Laughed long and hard and then he was kissing her.

“Don't be sorry,” he said when he finally let her go. “You've done me a favour. One less camp to take over, one less Hag to deal with, and that one I wasn't looking forward to. Don't worry, Liriel. Your secret's safe with me. Just don't tell Kaie, she's still mourning. She won't thank you.”

Liriel promised she wouldn't. So that was the story behind Madanach's marriage – and it was Mireen's old armour he'd given her. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. Even in Cidhna Mine, had he seen a queen in waiting? She hoped they didn't end up like he and Mireen had – but even if he tried and failed to save her girls from dying, she liked to think she could forgive him in the end. 

“So you've got kids yourself,” said Madanach, smiling as he stroked her hair. “Tell me about them then. And if you don't mind me asking, if you're not married, who looks after them while you're off killing dragons?”

So Liriel found herself telling Madanach all about her little aedra girls, about Sissel who wanted to be Archmage like her mama and Lucia who loved singing and poetry and was learning to play the lute, and he laughed and listened and looked gentler and younger and less grizzled, and as they talked, Liriel realised that perhaps this wasn't turning out so badly after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Hag's End wasn't so far from Druadach Redoubt – only two hours on foot. Less on horseback of course, but Liriel was the only one in the entire camp with a horse. If cattle drew Nord attention, how much more would horses draw? That and the Reach was terrible riding country. So on foot it was, as the King in Rags never stirred anywhere without at least four of his blood-brothers in attendance and was too proud to ride behind Liriel anyway. The day she turned up riding a dragon, that he might consider joining her on – but not a mere horse.

Liriel was in her Archmage robes again today, torc round her neck and the hood down, looking as beautiful as ever. He still wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed to lure a beautiful, murderous, savage Dragonborn elf-maiden into his bed, but it had happened and he wasn't one to pass up something like that. 

He'd not expected there to be children. She'd not seemed like the maternal type, but that morning, enthusing about her little girls, she'd managed to surprise him. And he'd lain alongside her listening and just watching her, and he'd felt happy. Content. At ease with the world and if he could have more mornings like that, he'd at least feel his life hadn't been wasted. It had been so very different to being with Mireen, and it was with a jolt he realised that while he and Mireen had talked politics and winning back the Reach and uniting the Forsworn all the time, and later plenty about the children, and of course they'd spent plenty of time in bed too, they'd actually spent very little time just enjoying each other's company. Not like he had with Liriel. 

Maybe he was getting mellower as he got older. Maybe. But the fact remained that she managed to be an extremely capable mage who wasn't afraid to get blood on her hands, and yet still had a heart. It was a combination he couldn't resist – someone who'd slaughter the Nords alongside him and then melt into his arms afterwards. Mireen had hated cuddling. Liriel seemed to enjoy it. Madanach just wanted as much physical contact with the Dragon-Queen as he could possibly manage. 

The sentries at Deepwood Redoubt had come running, weapons raised, right up until they'd seen who it was and immediately lowered their axes and ushered them all inside, all through the Redoubt itself and out into the Vale. Liriel had been unable to stop herself gasping as she saw the valley for the first time.

“It's so pretty!” she'd cried. “I'd had no idea this was even here!”

He'd not been able to resist sliding an arm around her.

“Well, consider yourself welcome here any time,” he'd laughed. Really, she was ridiculously cute sometimes. 

Through the fort and then into Hag's End itself, their escort dropping back at this point. Hag's End was Keirine's personal territory and she guarded it jealously. But she'd always made her brother welcome.

Liriel was looking around nervously, exchanging looks with the witches of Keirine's coven, some of whom were fellow Altmer who glanced at her robes, sneered and left the room. Keirine herself however seemed positively delighted, emerging from above and grinning gleefully at Liriel.

“Sss, brother, you brought her! Your Shrouded Dragon, your pretty elf. Welcome, Dragonborn, Reach-Queen to be.”

“I haven't married him,” Liriel protested, looking like it was taking all her self-control not to run or set fire to things. Madanach had to admit it took a little getting used to, and the first time he'd seen Keirine after her Ascension ritual had been a bit of a shock. But she'd still called him brother, and despite the physical changes, she hadn't changed much personality wise.

“But you still wear his torc,” Keirine smirked. “You've allowed him to stake a claim. Not wise, Shrouded One.”

“Love has its own wisdom,” Liriel said without thinking, regretting the words as soon as she said them. Keirine cackled, rubbing her claws together. 

“You see, you have already given in,” Keirine laughed. “Oh brother, you have found yourself a fine one this time. Much better than Mireen. More powerful too, I can tell. Yes, yes, she's perfect.”

“Perfect for what?” Liriel demanded. “I hope you're not planning some dark ritual involving me.”

Keirine actually pouted at that. “No, no, sweet Liriel, I would not harm you. I would not break my brother's heart like that. No, I merely wished to look at you. I wished to see the one who will save the Reach.”

“Save the - ?” That had both Liriel and Madanach paying attention.

“Keirine,” said Madanach, frowning. “What have you seen?”

“Many things, brother, many things,” Keirine laughed. “Come, I would speak with you in private, brother. The Shrouded Dragon should wait here for now. No, do not fear, she will come to no harm.”

Liriel took a seat at the table, casting her mage armour anyway. 

“Trust me, I won't,” she snapped, glaring at Keirine. She wouldn't hurt Madanach's sister, no, but the witches were fair game if they tried anything. 

“She has fire,” Keirine said, approving. “She will need it to keep up with you, brother.”

“She takes dragon souls when they die,” Madanach said, grinning back at Liriel. “Frankly, I'm worried I won't be able to keep up with her.”

“Tsk, brother, you worry too much,” Keirine said, leading him into the next room and up the stairs, into what she liked to call her throne room. “It is not like you are a weakling yourself, is it now?”

“No, but I'm a mortal man and not a young one,” Madanach replied, closing the doors behind him. “I don't have a lot of time left to me.”

“You have enough,” Keirine purred, beckoning him over as she took a seat on one of the benches. “Come, brother, I wished to speak with you. About the stars and your pretty Dragon.”

Madanach trailed after her, taking a seat and wishing she'd get to the point. He loved her, of course he did, but he could do without her being so damn cryptic. 

“Start talking then,” he growled. “Why have you summoned us?”

“Because things are worse than you know,” Keirine said gravely, her smile fading. “The dragons have returned, creatures that do not die, and the first can destroy all. They have upset the balance and the Dance is ending.”

“Alduin the World-Eater,” said Madanach irritably. “Come back to destroy the world, or at least take it over, I'm not sure which. Liriel told me this, Keirine.”

“She does not know the half of it, brother. Madanach, the old magics are dying.”

Madanach blinked, not at all sure how to process this. “Dying? What do you mean, dying, they're the old magics, they can't just die.”

“Nevertheless, they are,” Keirine hissed. “Harder and harder it gets to make new Briar Hearts, and fewer are the candidates. Spells that used to be easy are getting harder, rituals that used to be foolproof are becoming volatile and the harder rites... they are failing entirely. Brother, we are in trouble if you do not do something.”

“Me? What am I supposed to do?” Madanach snapped. “You're the Matriarch, you tell me.”

“I cannot tell you because I do not know,” Keirine sighed. “But you have the one who can save us from Alduin. You and she, you can save the Reach, save all of us. Kill the World-Eater, keep the Dance going. Win this war for good.”

“Win back the Reach?” Madanach breathed. “You think we can do it? Truly?”

Keirine nodded. “Yes, brother. But you must think differently, take a new path. The old ways will not serve you much longer. You will need to put aside your pride, talk to those who you once despised. There is new magic coming, a new power – the Dwarves started walking the path, but it will rise again in the Reach and the fire it lights will blaze over all of Tamriel. This will happen, Madanach, but when it does, the old ways will be gone for good, and the Forsworn with them.”

“Over my dead body -” Madanach began, at least until Keirine's claws snapped around his arm.

“You cannot stop it, brother, are you not listening??” Keirine hissed. “All you can do is ride the winds of change instead of being blown by them. You, it must be you, you are Red Eagle's heir. You must take back the Reach, secure it, build a dynasty. If your heirs are ruling when the new magic comes, they will grow wealthy and powerful in its wake. If not... the Forsworn will never have their land.”

Madanach could barely breathe. Why, why was she telling him this? That he had to win back Markarth, hold on to the city and pass it on to Kaie or the Forsworn were doomed? He considered himself both bright and resourceful but this was a lot of pressure.

“And I'm supposed to do all this how exactly?” he demanded. “I could take Markarth in weeks, but the Empire would come back eventually, once they'd sorted the Civil War out. Or worse, the Stormcloak would win and come for us. Believe me, sister, I have been thinking about this.”

Keirine did smile at that, Hag features twisting cruelly. “Oh but brother, you have not factored the Dragonborn into anything. You have only just secured her, have you not?”

“She's not my wife,” Madanach told her. “I'd like to but... it's complicated. My Dragon-Queen deserves more than an empty title and a bed at a Forsworn camp.”

“She will have more than that,” Keirine purred. “Do not fear, Madanach. You will see the way when it opens. What seems like a betrayal will turn out to be the gateway to freedom for you both, you will see.”

Madanach didn't see at all, but he'd learned the hard way not to press Keirine for anything more concrete. His sister did not like being questioned.

“And now, brother, you should call your pretty elf up here,” Keirine grinned. “I have a couple of little gifts for her.”

Madanach did so, and Liriel arrived, smoothing her robes down and looking suspiciously at Keirine.

“So why did you call me here?” Liriel asked without preamble. “What do you want? I refuse to believe you just wanted to meet your brother's lady friend.”

“Such a clever one, the Shrouded Dragon is!” Keirine cackled, getting to her feet. “Oh yes, old Keirine had her reasons. In particular, it is most pleasant to hear the Mother of the Night is silent no more. Yes, she has chosen well, Listener. Come, I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?” Liriel asked, frowning as she followed Keirine. “What sort of gift? Madanach?”

“It's fine,” said Madanach, patting her on the shoulder. “She likes you.”

Liriel sighed and followed. If Madanach thought there was no danger, she'd believe him, but she didn't like this at all. 

Keirine retreated behind her throne and pulled a lever, opening a secret room.

“See, see, a storeroom of mine, used frequently by me,” Keirine purred. “Imagine my surprise when one day the body of a Dark Brotherhood assassin, long dead but miraculously preserved, appears when it was never there before, armour intact.” Keirine indicated for Liriel to look, and sure enough, there was a corpse there, a dead Dark Brother, clad in armour that looked like her own at first glance... but the enchantments and quality were far superior. As Liriel knelt and touched the armour, the body faded away, leaving only the armour behind.

“What in the name of Sithis is going on?” Liriel gasped. Keirine shrugged.

“I know not. All I know is the body appeared, then the day after word comes from my brother that the Night Mother speaks and the Listener had joined our cause, and she is also something called Dragonborn. So I waited until he had secured you, and then sent for you to see for yourself. Now the body has gone but the armour remains. A gift for you, I think. Take it, it has old magics of its own.”

Liriel gathered the armour up, suspicious but also deciding that Shrouded Armour was hard for a non-Dark Brotherhood member to tamper with. 

“Thank you,” she said. “I'll put it to good use.”

Keirine just cackled, flexing her claws. “Oh you will, Dragon-Listener. You will indeed. Now come, come, I have something else for you.”

Liriel followed, still wary, trailing after the Hag until all three of them arrived in a stone chamber with a curved Word Wall at the end. Madanach looked on, curious, but Liriel heard it before she saw it, heard the chanting, felt the room go fuzzy with power and walked towards the Wall, dazed as she always was by them. 

“Liriel?” she heard Madanach call, sounding worried. “Liriel, what is it? Keirine, what have you done??”

“Not I, brother,” the Hag laughed. “Her own blood is singing to her.”

 _Tiid Klo Ul_ , all three words of Slow Time, yes, she had it now, yes! Liriel used her latest dragon soul to release the power and laughed as the knowledge rushed into her. A new Thu'um! A precious gift indeed.

“Thank you!” she gasped, turning to Keirine, who just smirked back. “I had no idea you had one of these here!”

“Liriel,” and then Madanach was on her, staring into her eyes as he turned her face to look at him. “What happened, are you alright?”

“Oh!” she giggled. “Yes, I'm fine, I always get a bit like that after seeing a Word Wall. It's a new power, a new Shout!”

“A new Shout? What, you just learned it off that?” Madanach turned to stare at the carvings on the Wall. “You can read those?”

Liriel nodded. “Well, sort of. I can see the Word of Power on it. No, don't try looking, you're not Dragonborn, it won't work for you.”

“Oh, don't tell my brother that, it will just encourage him,” Keirine growled. Liriel felt herself warming to her. 

“Keirine, can you get everyone in your camp to have a look at this, see if there's any other Dragonborns among them?” Madanach asked thoughtfully. “I don't know if there's any others out there, but it's worth a try, right?”

“It does not work like that!” Keirine sighed, frustrated. “You have one, do not go hunting for others. You only need one.”

“You're only having one,” said Liriel firmly, already beginning to realise that physical affection was the best, probably the only, means of distracting Madanach once he got an idea in his head. “Don't want me to get jealous, do you?” She put her arms around him and nuzzled his cheek. Madanach squeezed her hand but his eyes never left the Word Wall.

“New magic indeed,” Madanach murmured to himself. “And the Nords know it better than we do.”

“I'm not a Nord,” Liriel pointed out. That did get a smile out of him.

“No, you're not. Keirine, I think I need to get Liriel home... but thank you.”

Keirine's expression darkened as she nodded back. “Brother, do not forget what I told you. It is now or never. You or no one. Do not lose your Dragon-Queen.”

“What is she talking about, Madanach?” Liriel asked, eyes narrowing. _What aren't you telling me??_

Madanach patted her on the arm, but he looked troubled. “I will tell you on the way home, macreena. Say goodbye and let's be leaving.”

Liriel did so, but as she followed Madanach out, she couldn't help but feel wary. Something was going on, something big, that she didn't know about and she had a feeling she wouldn't like it when she found out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“So, Liriel. Your take on the Civil War. I heard you joined the Empire's Legion, correct?”

They were walking home, south to Druadach Redoubt, Madanach purposely letting his honour guard fall behind so he could talk to Liriel alone. Liriel guessed this must be related to his conversation with Keirine, the hushed one he'd not wanted to speak of. She should have known this would come up sooner or later, Madanach could hardly be unaware of the war even if he wasn't directly involved.

“Yes, yes I did, but the Legion already hold Markarth and I only joined up to fight Stormcloaks,” said Liriel, hoping he wouldn't hold it against her. “I'm from the Summerset Isles, not Cyrodiil, my loyalty only goes so far.”

“Hmm,” Madanach murmured. “Would you mind telling me why? No need for you to get involved at all, was there?”

Liriel wondered what to tell him. Truthfully, she'd not intended to take either side – worship of a false god was not worth dying over, and as a child of Alinor, the Empire's troubles weren't hers. It had only been when she'd infiltrated the Thalmor Embassy and discovered just how her countrymen and women had been interfering and manipulating the whole scenario and had been for years that she'd realised she had to do something.

“Yes there was,” said Liriel. “Madanach, I don't know how much you know about the Thalmor, but they run the Summerset Isles and they don't like us leaving unless it's on Thalmor business. They strongly believe in Elven supremacy, that the Altmer are the trueborn descendants of the Eight Divines and all the other mer are degenerate offshoots with mixed blood, while humans and beastkin, well... Good tools, useful pets, but not the equal of truebred mer.”

“Beliefs I take it you don't share,” Madanach said grimly. “Hope not, you're sharing my bed.”

“No, no,” said Liriel, faint smile on her face. “I mean, growing up in Alinor, we never knew anything else really. I didn't know any non-Altmer who weren't servants. But I had a whole succession of Khajiit and Argonian nannies who told me stories. When I grew up, I started studying magic and wanted to travel to learn more. Sure, Alinor's got some of the best libraries and research facilities in the world for magical study, but there's always more to be learned. My older brother was going to run the family business so there was no need for me to stay. After much pleading and begging, my father finally called in a few political favours and got me an exit permit to study in Cyrodiil. So off I went.”

“But you didn't stay there,” Madanach noted. Liriel shook her head.

“No. Too much politics, too little magic, among the Synod anyway. The Mages' Guild was worse, started off trying to teach me novice spells every Altmer learns by the time they're of age. Then I heard there was the College of Winterhold in Skyrim. So off I went, hoping they'd have more to teach me. Crossed the border at Pale Pass and walked straight into an Imperial ambush. How they thought a well-bred Altmer lady was a Stormcloak rebel, I have no idea, but they weren't taking chances. I was seconds away from an execution when Alduin attacked. I escaped in the chaos, with help from one of the Legionnaires who'd been kind to me. He told me the Legion could do with brave and resourceful people like me.”

“So you joined up,” Madanach said, shaking his head. “At least I should be grateful you didn't escape with Ulfric. As it is... they nearly killed you, Liriel, why? Do you fall in with every group of prisoners you escape with??”

“It's only happened twice!” Liriel protested. “And General Tullius isn't my type. Too focused on his work.” He'd glanced her over, but not the long, lingering, blatantly lustful gaze Madanach had subjected her to. Tullius was just a soldier really, focused on getting the job done then moving on to his next set of orders. Madanach was far far more than a mere soldier – he very passionately believed in what he was doing, and that passion had emerged in other areas too. Also Tullius didn't use magic. Liriel might befriend a human, but she couldn't love one who didn't understand and respect magic. To be able to use it competently on top of all that... no wonder she'd fallen into Madanach's arms.

“Should hope not,” Madanach growled, an arm going around her waist. “So if it isn't General Tullius's charisma that has you fighting, why is a child of Alinor bothered about what happens in Skyrim?”

“Because the Thalmor are behind it,” Liriel said quietly, remembering the dossiers she'd found in their Embassy. “And they had prisoners and torture rooms and they're manipulating the whole world just to take it over and enslave it. I wouldn't have cared at one time, but being around humans, watching them live, you realise that they're not so different really. They're bright and they're talented and they can use magic too if they learn, and I've made some really good friends. I'd seen the damage the war was doing firsthand by that point, and to find out my fellow countrymen were causing it and ensuring it continued so that the humans would be too weak to fight back when they next declared war... no. It became clear that someone would have to do something, so that someone is me. And I wasn't going to sign up with Ulfric bloody Stormcloak. Of all the things to fight for, the right to worship someone who is definitely not a damn Aedra as far as I'm concerned is not going to be it. That's why, Madanach.”

Madanach nodded, actually looking thoughtful. “They're good reasons,” he said at length. “I can't say I care for Tiber Septim's Empire, and I've not had dealings with the Thalmor personally, not unless you count killing them. But you're not fighting against the Reach, so I guess I can live with it.”

“It's not Tiber Septim's Empire any more,” Liriel pointed out. “His bloodline's dead and they don't even worship him any more. Well. They're not meant to anyway.”

“I'm not meant to be running a rebellion, worshipping the old gods and bringing death to the Nords, but it never stopped me,” Madanach laughed. “Well, Empire-lover, you've impressed my sister at any rate. She seems to think you're important. Seems to think I'm in with a chance of actually winning this war, but only with your help. Didn't say how though. Only that you need to kill this Alduin. Hope you have a plan for that, Dragon-Queen.”

“Of course I have a plan,” Liriel lied, deciding not to tell him that the plan currently involved heading back to Winterhold to track down an Elder Scroll and then trying to use it to see into the past and learn some Shout that might, just might, kill off Alduin and not break the universe in the process. Madanach had enough to worry about without knowing just how precarious the fight against Alduin really was.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The real test of true love is not the morning after, it's not dealing with each other's less than pleasant habits, it's not even the in-laws. It's dealing with your beloved's lunatic friend at very short notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Cicero being a little handful. This is what happens when he's not involved with the Listener, he starts trying it on with everyone else...

Another night in Madanach's arms, another night of lovemaking, gentler this time, just exploring each other, touching each other, pleasing each other, enjoying each other. Afterwards Liriel held a sleepy Madanach in her arms, just listening to him breathe and never wanting to leave.

All things must come to an end though, and the morning saw her heading off again. That Elder Scroll wouldn't find itself, she'd not seen her daughters in too long, and she'd also promised Cicero not to leave him alone in Falkreath Sanctuary for that long again. The poor man had spent enough time alone for one lifetime. She had no intention of letting that continue. 

New Shrouded Armour in place, and Liriel walked into Falkreath Sanctuary to where Gabriella was waiting. 

“Gabriella, Maro's dead, I killed him in Markarth -” Liriel began, only for Gabriella to raise a hand, silencing her.

“I know, I heard, here's your gold,” the Dunmer told her. “We've got more important things than that to worry about right now.”

What could be more important than part of the contract on the Emperor? Unless...

“There's been an incident,” said Gabriella, her red eyes sombre. “It's Cicero.”

Liriel's heart sank. Oh no. What had he done? What had someone done to him?? _Please don't be dead, you're my friend, my brother!_

She followed Gabriella in to where Veezara was sitting on the floor, bleeding from some nasty wounds and being tended to by Babette. All the others were grouped around him, apart from Arnbjorn, nowhere to be seen. Astrid was watching over it all, pacing furiously.

“There you are,” she snapped on seeing Liriel. “About time you showed up.”

“What happened?” Liriel whispered. “Gabriella said it was Cicero...”

“Damn right it was,” Astrid seethed. “Little fool finally lost his mind and attacked me! If Veezara hadn't intervened, he'd likely have killed me. As it is, I have an assassin injured, my husband's out there chasing after Cicero, and my entire Sanctuary's in chaos. We've got to do something about this – _you've_ got to do something about this!”

“Me?” Liriel said, surprised. “Why me?”

“Because I need to look after everyone here, Veezara's injured, Nazir has to meet some clients for me, Babette's looking after Veezara, I can hardly send Festus trekking all over the country after Cicero at his age and I need Gabriella here to deal with any contracts that come in. That just leaves you.” Astrid had her arms folded, glaring at Liriel as if this was all her fault.

“What do you want me to do?” Liriel asked, although deep in her heart, she knew the answer.

“Find that twisted little fool and send him to the Void, in as many pieces as possible!” Astrid snarled. Liriel felt her heart break. _Cicero, no... what did you do??_ Not that it was that much of a shock but while Cicero was certainly insane, he wasn't out of control. He'd never stabbed anyone without fully intending to in his life. Something had to have caused it.

“Do we know why he did this? I mean, something must have set him off, right?”

Everyone was quiet, all staring at Astrid, who hesitated, an unfamiliar emotion flickering in her eyes – guilt. 

“No, not that I know of,” she said, and Liriel knew she was lying, and Astrid could clearly tell she knew that, because she caved right away. “Well, this whole situation has been weighing on us all as of late, and it's possible he overheard me talking to one of the others about the Night Mother. I may not have been... entirely respectful.”

She knew it. She just knew it. Astrid had insulted the Night Mother, Cicero found out and tried to stab her. An overreaction? Perhaps. But Cicero had been putting up with a lot since his arrival and it must have been the last straw. Liriel recalled the First Tenet – to treat the Night Mother with respect at all times. With no Wrath of Sithis being invoked, Cicero must have taken it upon himself to act the part. 

Liriel forced a smile to her face, suppressing the urge to tear into Astrid herself. “Well, I do agree it's been a little stressful for us all...”

“Stressful??” Astrid cried. “This whole thing is ridiculous. The Night Mother speaking. You being the Listener. I'm sorry, but it's just unbelievable that the newest member of the Sanctuary would suddenly become the one in charge because some dried-up old corpse says so.”

Liriel fingered Mehrunes' Razor, resisting the urge to drive the dagger right into Astrid's heart. _I am the Chosen of Sithis, you stupid woman, I hear the words of the Ascended One, the Hag of Hags. Who are you to question her??_

“It is ridiculous, you're right,” said Liriel, her voice soothing. “Don't you worry, Astrid, I'll go and find Cicero and deal with him. There's probably something in his room that says where he's gone.” Such as one of his journals perhaps – Liriel had read four of them, but she knew there was a fifth there somewhere. 

“Thank you,” said Astrid, relaxing. “Time is of the essence – my husband is out there. Take my horse, Shadowmere. You'll find her outside the Sanctuary on your way out.” 

Liriel nodded and ran to Cicero's room, collecting all of his journals, and scanning the fifth that she'd not yet read. Sure enough, there was his likely destination – Dawnstar Sanctuary, and even the passphrase. Too good to be true. Pocketing it all, Liriel left. Time to find her brother. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Astrid waited until Liriel had left before calling Nazir over.

“All right, time to move. Nazir, get to Dawnstar Sanctuary, if the fool's journal was right, that's where he'll be. Passphrase is Innocence, my brother.”

“Hope you're not thinking I'll get there first,” Nazir said, grimacing. “Not seeing as you just sent her away on your horse.”

“Yes, I did, which means she'll have left her horse here,” said Astrid, grinning. “Also, you're assuming she'll go straight there. I personally think she won't go to Dawnstar, she'll head for her new friends in the Forsworn.”

“Why would she do that – oh. Oh, I get it. You think she wants reinforcements against him? Or somewhere secure to hide him?”

Astrid nodded, smiling. “Precisely. See this as a little test of her loyalty. If she kills the whimpering fool, she passes. If on the other hand, she spares him and sneaks him off to the Reach, we know she's plotting something. So get to that Sanctuary, hide yourself, wait for her. See who she arrives with and who she leaves with. If she takes Cicero with her, follow. I want to know where exactly she's hiding.”

“It shall be done, Astrid,” Nazir promised, evil grin on his face. Astrid watched him go, satisfied indeed with the way this was going. Yes, it was a pity Veezara got hurt, but there was a reason she'd not kept her voice down. Now Cicero was gone and she'd get to find out where Liriel's loyalties really were. Everything was going according to plan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It was gone midnight by the time Liriel staggered into Vlindrel Hall, but she didn't care. She needed help and she needed it now, and she needed someone she could trust, and more to the point, someone Madanach trusted. Didn't leave many people.

“Argis?” she called. “Argis, are you still up?”

“I'm right here, my Thane,” Argis replied, emerging from the back of the house. “Did you need something?” 

Liriel had wondered how to delicately approach Argis on the little matter of him being a secret Forsworn agent. That was before Astrid forced her hand, of course.

“Argis, I know you're working for Madanach,” Liriel sighed. “I was at his base a day ago, he admitted it then.” She dug the torc out of her pack and put it round her neck. “I need your help and I'm going to need his too. Argis, tell me the truth, if you walked right up to his camp tomorrow, would they really let you in or kill you on sight?”

Argis had gone very quiet, staring at the torc. Then he nodded, lowering his head.

“They'd let me in, Reach-Queen. Druadach Redoubt is where I grew up – after Ma died in the Markarth Incident, Da got me brought there.”

“Your father was in the Forsworn,” Liriel breathed. Well that was obvious once she thought about it. Argis just nodded.

“And Madanach, he seems to trust you,” Liriel continued. “So if you went to him and asked him for something, he might say yes?”

Argis did look up at that, shocked. “Reach-Queen. This is the Lord of the Reach we're talking about. I can't just go to him and start making demands.”

“No,” said Liriel hopefully. “But if I needed you to go to him and make a request on my behalf, he'd listen to you and believe you, right?”

Argis did relax at that. “Of course. If it was a message from you, I'm sure he'd consider it, my queen.”

“Please stop calling me that,” said Liriel, hastily taking the torc off. “I'm not his – we're not – look, I'm certainly not Queen of the Reach.”

“No, my Thane,” said Argis, now looking at the floor again, but Liriel could see a faint smile on his face. “What did you need, my Thane?”

“A dear friend of mine is in trouble,” said Liriel, trying not to think of Cicero alone out there, on the run, possibly injured, maybe even... no, not dead, not Cicero, please. “He's on the run, hunted and I need to go and find him, rescue him and get him somewhere safe. The only place where he'll be safe is with the King in Rags. Argis, will you help me? And when we've found him, I'll need to report back to the ones hunting him and persuade them he's dead. Which means you'll need to take him back to Druadach Redoubt and persuade Madanach to look after him for me. Is, er, that going to be a problem?”

“No, I don't think so,” said Argis, already starting to gather equipment and weapons. “May I ask who your friend is? Madanach's picky about who gets inside his camp at the best of times.”

Liriel was tempted to tell him it was none of his business and to do as he was told, and honestly, he'd probably have let it go... but he was right about Madanach's paranoia.

“His name is Cicero,” Liriel told him. “He's a son of Sithis and Keeper of the Night Mother, and Madanach will know the name. He's a good friend, like a brother to me.”

“Then what are we waiting for,” Argis replied, having finished gathering everything. “Let's go. All I suggest is writing a letter to Madanach first and leaving it with Nepos. With any luck it'll get there before I do.”

Good thinking, in fact that hadn't occurred to Liriel at all. She grabbed a quill and two sheets of paper, writing the same letter on both

_“M,_

_There has been trouble at the Sanctuary, and Cicero the Keeper needs help. For his own safety, it's become necessary to send him elsewhere, and I can't think of anyone else who could protect him._

_If you don't want him there, I'll make alternative arrangements, but for my sake, please take care of him until I can come in person. Argis is bringing him directly to you – I hope this isn't going to be a problem._

_I'll see you as soon as I can get away.”_

Liriel hesitated, then decided that seeing as everyone was quite casually referring to her as Madanach's queen, even her own housecarl, she might as well make use of it.

_“I love you and will be thinking of you,_

_Liriel, Queen of Dragons”_

She signed both notes like that, smiling as she did so, then folded them and sealed them with her personal rune seal, before handing them over to Argis and telling him to take one to Nepos now. As Argis left to make the delivery, Liriel sat back, fretting. She hoped Cicero would be all right. He had to be. He was her sweet, funny, naughty little scamp of a brother. If anyone hurt him, she'd rain down the fires of Oblivion on them personally.

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Dawnstar Sanctuary was deserted, but there was a huge bloodstain just outside it and another trail of blood leading to the Black Door, where a bloody handprint had appeared on it. It was smaller than Athis' hand but larger than Liriel's – human, male, not a Nord. Cicero.

“What do you think?” Liriel asked Argis. He'd probably got more experience in interpreting blood spatter than she did. 

“Looks like a fight happened here, two of them, both got in some hits and one of them ran for the door rather than continue. I think the other couldn't or didn't follow and stayed out here. But they're not here now so maybe they had healing potions or help came.”

Arnbjorn had found Cicero then. From the sound of it, it looked like Cicero had hidden inside the Sanctuary after getting injured. _Mara have mercy, please be all right, please._ About the only thing bothering Liriel was why Arnbjorn wasn't still out here. The Arnbjorn she knew was an obsessive and patient hunter, devoted to Astrid. He'd not want to leave and risk Cicero escaping later, so where was he??

Maybe he was hiding out of sight. Maybe. All the same, it irked Liriel.

“Arnbjorn?” she called. “If you're hiding, don't worry. Go home to Astrid. She's worried about you. I've got this one.”

No response, but she'd not expected one. Motioning for Argis to follow her, she went inside.

~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Listener?? Is that you? Oh, I knew you'd come! Astrid must have known her sheepdog couldn't slay sly Cicero!”

“That's the Keeper of the Night Mother?” Argis murmured in Liriel's ear as Cicero's cackling echoed through the Sanctuary. Clearly her housecarl was starting to have regrets about the whole venture.

“He's a little... odd,” Liriel admitted. “But he's lovely really, very sweet, very friendly.”

“Friendly??” Argis cursed as the first Sanctuary Guardians rose to fight them.

“Hey, now wait a minute, I am the damn Listener!” Liriel shouted, but the ghost Guardians ignored her and attacked anyway.

“Fine,” Liriel hissed, casting a Flame Cloak and drawing Dawnbreaker. “Have it your way.” The fight began in earnest.

Cicero had been smart, it seemed. Too smart. He'd rigged every trap in the Sanctuary, sealed bits off, forcing them to travel the most dangerous route and the Guardian spirits were there at every turn. Argis was taking the brunt of it, and Liriel just thanked Mara she'd found him some steel plate armour to keep him safer than his standard issue steel. As it was, it was hard going, and Cicero's shrieking wasn't helping.

The troll gave them the most trouble, and Argis took some particularly nasty strikes from it. However, he kept it distracted just long enough for Liriel to burn it to death with sustained fire attacks.

Finally, after trekking through the crypt and dealing with more Guardians, they'd made it to where Cicero had hidden himself, in the old torture room from the look of it. 

“Cicero has to confess, he didn't think the Listener would still be alive!” Cicero giggled from down the corridor. 

“Friendly??” Argis said, looking rather pointedly at Liriel. 

“For a Dark Brotherhood assassin, he is,” said Liriel, sighing. “Look, Cicero, I'm not going to hurt you!”

“No? Then why are you here, if not on the Pretender's orders?” Cicero howled, before breaking into a coughing fit. 

“My reasons are my own,” said Liriel as she opened the door to the old torture room and walked in. Cicero was lying on the floor, looking pale even for him, blood pooling out on the floor and curled up in a little ball, coughing pitifully. He looked up at Liriel, eyes hazy and actually squeaked when he saw Argis walk in.

“Listener! You brought me a big burly Nord warrior to play with. You shouldn't have.”

“Oh gods,” Argis muttered. “Liriel, if he starts groping me...”

“He won't,” said Liriel quickly, running to kneel at Cicero's side. “Cicero, by the Eight, are you all right?”

“I'm not the man I used to be,” Cicero wheezed. “Listener was worried? Sweet Liriel is afraid Cicero might expire before she has the chance to kill him herself?” He was still grinning up at her, like he'd done a hundred times before. 

“No, idiot, that's not why I'm here!” Liriel sighed, digging into her pack for some healing potions.

“Oh Liriel, do not lie to Cicero,” he sighed, coughing. “Astrid sent you here to kill poor Cicero, we know. And Liriel does what Astrid tells her, we all know that too.” The grin changed into a glare as he stared furiously up at her. 

“She has the rest of the Sanctuary behind her, I can't challenge her openly, you know that,” said Liriel softly. “And I'm sorry I went away for so long and didn't go to Volunruud like the Night Mother said.”

“Sorry!” Cicero laughed. “Not as sorry as Cicero is. But it is all right, Astrid sent people in the end, the contract is being carried out, that is well. Cicero is merciful and forgiving.”

Cicero was neither of those things in Liriel's experience, but she indicated for him to continue.

“Cicero likes Liriel and will give her a chance to redeem herself,” Cicero said, then paused for another coughing fit. “Lie to Astrid. Tell her you killed me. Tell her the job is done, the Fool of Hearts is dead. Stabbed! Drowned! Beheaded! Set on fire! Strangled with his own intestines! But let Cicero go. Don't hurt him. Please, Liriel, sweetest of sisters, Mother's true Listener, let poor Cicero live!”

“Yes,” Liriel breathed, laying her hands on him and feeling Heal Other course through her fingertips and into Cicero's prone form. Cicero gasped, going limp under the magic before starting to giggle and writhe in a way that was frankly horribly suggestive.

“Ooh Listener, yes, you can do this to poor Cicero any time!” he giggled. Liriel promptly stopped casting, guessing he was well enough by this point. 

“Potions,” she said tersely. “And food. Drink, eat, clean up, we're leaving. Cicero, this is Argis. Argis, this is Cicero.”

“Pleasure,” Argis muttered, not looking at all pleased. “He's... really the Keeper.”

“I am, I am!” Cicero giggled, knocking back the potions Liriel was passing him before tucking into a meal of bread, cheese and grilled chicken. “Cicero doesn't know who Argis is though.” He was tilting his head, looking curiously. 

“He's my housecarl from Markarth,” Liriel explained. “My bodyguard. You can trust him. He's going to get you out of here, take you to a safe place where there are other sons and daughters of Sithis to look after you. I'll come myself as soon as I can, but you need to go with him and _behave yourself._ ”

Cicero looked up at Argis, grinning as if his birthday and New Life had come at once. “Cicero gets to be swept away by the handsome Nord warrior to a secret hideaway? Ooh, yes please, Cicero thought you'd never ask.” Cicero shifted faster than Liriel had ever seen him move, prostrating himself at Argis' feet, lying on his back and resting his head on one hand, insane grin still plastered across his face. Liriel began to wonder if this had been a good idea, and from the horrified look on Argis' face, he was clearly thinking the same. 

“My Thane, when I said earlier Madanach would take him in for you... I'm not so sure that's the case any more.”

“Well, it's too late now and I've not got anywhere else to take him,” Liriel sighed, hoping Madanach would still be willing to talk to her after she'd inflicted Cicero on him. “I won't be long, I promise.”

“Oh, no hurry, no hurry,” Cicero purred, getting to his feet and gazing hungrily up at Argis, who at six foot tall was a full four inches taller than Cicero. “I don't mind being left alone with the handsome Nord for as long as is needed.”

“I mind,” Argis growled. “Come on, you're coming with me. And don't play up in front of the King in Rags, he's not a patient man and he can shoot lightning from his hands.”

Cicero promptly went pink, face lighting up in delight as a little squeak came from his lips. This was definitely a terrible idea, no doubt about it now, but there was no going back. She'd just have to get there as soon as possible and make sure Cicero didn't cause any trouble there either. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

In the end, they'd got Cicero out of the Sanctuary without any trouble, and he'd calmed down once they were outside, presumably caution making him wary. Argis mounted Shadowmere, Cicero perched in front of him, giggling to himself and looking very excited to be off on an adventure to his new home in the Reach. She'd given him her old Shrouded Armour, but it didn't fit him terribly well and he'd elected to keep his motley on for now. She'd also handed his journals over, feeling he should have them back. He'd thanked her quietly and pocketed them, before turning huge brown eyes on to her and asking her softly to take care of Mother for him and tell her he was sorry. Liriel had promised she would. Who knows, maybe one day she'd be able to bring the Night Mother to a safer place and Cicero could see her again. For now though, the Night Mother was safe enough at Falkreath. Astrid might not respect the Night Mother, but there was enough residual affection for her among the rest of the Sanctuary that outright vandalism was unlikely.

With Cicero seen off on his merry way, Liriel had walked back to Falkreath, cursing her luck and wishing she'd kept Shadowmere. Finally, she made it back to where Astrid was waiting.

“And?” Astrid asked, glancing up. “How was it? Did you find him? Arnbjorn made it back having claimed Cicero had escaped into Dawnstar Sanctuary, but he couldn't follow due to not knowing the passphrase. I take it you had no such problem.”

“He's dead,” said Liriel, amazed at how easily the lie flowed from her lips. “He'll never bother you again.”

“Good,” said Astrid, her lips curling. “That'll teach him. Now go and speak to Festus. He's got the details of your next assignment for you. Time to get back to work, don't you agree?”

Liriel nodded and headed off to speak to the old wizard. Astrid waited until she'd gone before retreating into her bedroom where Nazir and Arnbjorn were waiting.

“Well, she had the nerve to turn up here and lie to my face about him,” said Astrid tersely. “She's definitely plotting something. So now do you think we shouldn't take action?”

Nazir sighed, looking heavily at the ground. “I didn't want to believe it, but you're right. She disobeyed a direct order. We have to do something.”

“Easier said than done,” Arnbjorn growled. “Without Cicero here, alive, it's just your word against hers, and there's little chance of us getting to him. I tracked that Nord warrior of hers who took Cicero – must have followed halfway across Skyrim. They're in the Reach all right, a Forsworn camp in the Druadach Valley. Wouldn't want to have to get him out of there. Forsworn fight to the death – they're tough, even when I'm in beast form. Chances are good they'll get him out of there while I'm still fighting their guards. Forget sneaking in either – their watch-goats will smell you coming, and then all it takes is one of them to cast Detect Life and they're all on to you. Don't bother sending Babette either, I imagine there's at least one there who can cast Detect Dead too, and if they've got a Hagraven there, all bets are off.”

It wasn't promising, and Astrid began to regret not ordering Arnbjorn to kill Cicero en route to the Reach. But then she wouldn't know where Liriel's secret Forsworn base was. Time enough to plot a trap. Cicero was unlikely to be going anywhere and Liriel didn't know Astrid was on to her yet. 

“Leave that to me,” said Astrid thoughtfully. “For now, we watch and we wait and soon, she'll make a mistake.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Cicero clung on to Shadowmere's back, a little unnerved at the speed the horse was travelling at, but enjoying himself regardless. Skyrim was flying by! And he had a handsome Nord at his back with one arm on the reins and one round Cicero's waist, and Argis hadn't actually thrown him off the horse yet despite threatening to, nor had he tied him up and gagged him either despite similar threats along those lines, and that was rather disappointing actually. Despite all the wriggling and pouting and fluttering his eyelashes, Argis had remained firm and unyielding and not the sort of firm and unyielding Cicero had had in mind either. This was most unfortunate.

But at least the snow had stopped falling, and that dreary marsh was behind them, and Cicero had got to see Solitude by night, twinkling off in the far distance, and got to ride over a big stone dragon bridge, and seen some nice Nord ruins which looked like they were full of bandits and Draugr and Things to Stab, and now they were riding through misty mountain country with strange twisted trees and pretty rivers, until finally Argis reined in Shadowmere and dismounted.

“Off you get,” he growled, helping Cicero down and only glaring a bit when Cicero took the opportunity to squirm and run his hands all over the big Nord's pretty armour. “And pack it in. We're here and the Reach-King won't want you flouncing all over the place like that. You behave yourself around him, you hear me?”

“Yes, Argis,” Cicero cooed, skipping alongside him. “Cicero shall do whatever the big, bad Reach-King tells him.” With any luck, said big, bad Reach-King might appreciate having a little court jester pet to play with. Maybe? Cicero could only hope. 

True sons and daughters of Sithis, Liriel had called them. Cicero had heard a little of the Forsworn but didn't really know a lot about them. Still, he clenched his fists and crossed his arms like Argis showed him and trotted along behind, looking about him. The sun was up now, and two Forsworn sentries were approaching, weapons raised.

“Names and business, strangers,” one, a woman, called out, and wasn't she cold dressed like that?? Not that Cicero objected to handsome young things walking around in revealing clothing exactly, but it was still a bit chilly.

“Argis the Bulwark,” said Argis neutrally. “This is Cicero the Keeper. We've got an important message for the King from Liriel.”

Both sentries lowered their weapons. 

“You're expected. Go through.”

Well, wasn't this interesting. Cicero followed, looking about him in surprise. Despite the goat's heads on spikes, the place wasn't as scary as he'd expected. No worse than a Sanctuary. Surprisingly homely, with a small farm, alchemy lab, some sort of still and a few tents on the first level, then more tents on the middle level along with a grindstone and workbenches, and on the top level, a small library, cooking fire, forge, three tents, one of which was a huge one with a skeleton on top of it and the only proper bed in camp lurking inside it – presumably belonging to the mysterious King in Rags – and in one corner, a huge cage with chains and all sorts inside it. Cicero felt his throat dry up at the sight of it. Clearly this Madanach had ways of dealing with infractions.

He was starting to like this place already. 

Argis led him up to the top level, to where a magelight cast against the wall illuminated a large table with a big map of the Reach and lots of paperwork stacked up on it. A grey-haired old man in Forsworn armour with all sorts of sparkly enchantments on it was sitting at said table, going through it all.

“Sir,” said Argis softly, tone verging on reverence. “Sir, Liriel sent me, I -”

“I know, I got her letter, boy,” the man replied, placing his quill down and turning to look at them both. Cicero shuffled closer to Argis, beginning to realise that big, bad Reach-King was only the half of it. Maybe this man was a good two decades older than Cicero, but he was by no means frail or fragile. Very little really scared Cicero apart from the dark and the silence and the endless loneliness and Sithis, the silence, he hated the silence. This man however was radiating an aura of pure menace, and those silver-grey eyes were the eyes of a hardened murderer. True son of Sithis indeed! Cicero whimpered quietly. 

“So you're the Keeper,” Madanach said finally, looking him up and down. “Cicero, is it?”

Cicero nodded. “Yes sir,” he whispered, and if this was Cicero's new Sanctuary, Madanach was clearly Speaker of said Sanctuary and very definitely not someone to be crossed. 

“I'd expected someone older,” said Madanach, frowning. “And why the jester outfit – no, never mind. Well, Cicero, you're a fortunate man – Liriel the Listener appears to like you, which I imagine just saved your life. I can guess what sort of incident might require your swift removal from a Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary and bringing here under conditions of utter secrecy, and can only assume Astrid of Falkreath wants you silenced for good, hmm?”

Cicero nodded, not sure shrieking about Astrid being a filthy, defiling Mother-slandering harlot would be a terribly good idea right now. Liriel was not here to protect him and Cicero didn't want to end up having to run away from here as well. Not when the Forsworn outnumbered him significantly, could nearly all use magic and knew the territory like the back of their hand.

“I'm not going to ask what happened, I'll get the full report off Liriel when she gets here,” said Madanach, those glacial eyes still staring down at poor, helpless Cicero. “But let me just make one thing very clear. You kill or try to kill anyone in this camp, you won't be getting another chance, boy. You'll be getting staked out for the sabre cats with your guts on show and that is if I want a quick end to you, do I make myself clear?”

Cicero nodded quickly, licking his lips. Sithis, but this Madanach was frightening. Very frightening. Cruel, ruthless, sadistic, uncaring – exactly Cicero's type and if Madanach was at all into men, even slightly, Cicero would happily roll over and let him do anything he wanted, anything at all.

“Very clear, sir, very clear indeed, Cicero will do exactly as he's told, the fearsome Reach-King need only ask,” Cicero babbled, hoping he wasn't making a complete fool of himself. Fortunately, Madanach didn't seem to mind, in fact there was the faintest hint of a smile there.

“By Sithis, Liriel wasn't wrong about the insanity,” he muttered to himself, and Cicero could have squealed to hear someone swear by Sithis even if he wasn't insane, he was perfectly sane, thank you very much.

“All right, you can stay here, Keeper,” said Madanach, returning back to his paperwork. “I've had a tent rigged up for you over there, and we've got food available if you want anything. I'll get Kaie, that's my daughter, to show you around. Kaie! _Kaie!_ ”

Scuffling from inside the tent on the far side of the forge. 

“Yeah, yeah, on my way,” a sleepy voice sighed. A woman emerged from the tent, adjusting the Forsworn armour she was wearing. Young from the look of it, younger than Cicero anyway, although not an inexperienced innocent, no. This woman was a seasoned Forsworn warrior from the way she carried herself. She took one look at Cicero and actually smiled.

“Hey Argis, good to see you. Is this the Keeper?? Cicero?”

“That's him,” Argis nodded. “Hope he gives you less trouble than he gave me.”

“Cicero is no trouble!” Cicero protested, trying his best to look innocent and not really succeeding. Madanach was looking very sceptical, while Kaie was looking him over with a frankly unsettling grin on her face.

“You're really Cicero,” Kaie said, smiling as Cicero nodded. “Liriel never told us you were cute!”

Cute? Cute?? Cicero wasn't cute, Cicero was a hardened murderer and son of the Night Mother, thank you very much! 

“Cute?” Madanach asked, raising an eyebrow at his daughter. “Has that word changed its meaning while I was in prison?”

“I think he's cute,” Kaie purred, reaching out a hand to Cicero. “Don't worry, sweetie, I won't hurt you. Unless you want me to of course.”

Cicero laughed nervously, taking her hand and trailing off after her. Sweet Night Mother, she was offering herself. Right there in front of her father and he wasn't even objecting, just rolling his eyes and shaking his head and muttering something like “each to their own”. And honestly, it had been so long since anyone had looked at him and thought anything other than 'gibbering idiot' or 'simpering fool', Cicero was having a hard time objecting to this possibility. Even Liriel, who was kind and friendly and murderous and lovely, didn't look at him as anything more than her mischievous little brother.

Liriel had told him to behave himself while he was here, and behave himself he would. He'd be good, very good and do exactly as he was told. And if some of those orders involved Kaie the Reach-King's daughter ordering him to her bed, well, he'd just have to live with it, wouldn't he? Smiling quite cheerfully, he skipped after her. He could stand to like this place, he really could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Madanach watched as Kaie led Cicero off, giving him a tour of the camp and its facilities and introducing him to everyone else, most of whom were as disbelieving as he'd been. He'd been expecting some elderly man, shuffled off into a ceremonial role after his body and mind started going as a reward for years of long service and loyalty to the Night Mother. Not someone a good two decades and possibly more his junior. 

Of course, the man was clearly insane, which boded ill if Madanach was honest. He could only think of one reason for retiring a lunatic from active assassination, and that was a tendency to stab the wrong people. If this Cicero stabbed anyone here, Madanach meant what he'd threatened – Keeper or no Keeper, Liriel's friend or not, Cicero was dying and dying painfully. Mercifully he seemed to be no trouble, cheerfully following Kaie around and babbling to everyone about how pleased he was to meet them. 

Liriel had better have a damn good explanation for landing this madman on him. That was assuming she wasn't caught up in the same political storm that had clearly sent Cicero fleeing. She'd said he was her only real backer as Listener, her closest friend in the Sanctuary. Now Astrid had moved against him to try and have him killed, and presumably with sufficient reason to do so, on the face of it at least. Madanach recognised a ploy to undermine Liriel when he saw it. Get rid of her best friend, leave her isolated... move in for the kill. Sithis, if they'd harmed his Dragon-Queen...

There was nothing he could do. Nothing except keep Cicero out of trouble and wait for Liriel to arrive.

“Sir, if that's all, I was thinking of heading back to Markarth...” Argis began, shuffling uneasily.

“Markarth, why – well, if you must,” said Madanach, a little distracted by thoughts of Liriel in trouble. “But you don't have to, you know that, don't you? You're one of us, even though you don't look it – you can come here any time if Liriel doesn't need you.”

“You told me to protect her with my life if I had to,” said Argis, raising an eyebrow. “She might need me at any time, sir.”

She might well, as this little escapade proved. She'd only been gone two days – she'd have had to go straight to Falkreath, then back to Markarth to get Argis and write that letter, then off to find Cicero... hadn't she stopped at all? More to the point...

“Argis, did you get any sleep last night?”

“It's fine, sir, I can cope without,” said Argis, stoic to the last. That was a no, then.

“Thought not,” said Madanach, motioning at his tent. “Go and get some sleep, boy. In fact, you might as well stay here until Liriel gets in, she'll likely need an escort when she does leave here if I know her.”

“Are you sure-” Argis began, then he saw the stern look Madanach was giving him. “Yes sir. Of course, sir.”

Madanach returned to his work as Argis headed off to bed, but his eyes kept returning to Liriel's letter. Trouble in the Sanctuary. Cicero in danger, but no word of how she was, just meaningless reassurances. He wanted information, dammit! Solid news! Word of what was going on! 

He wanted her, back here. He wanted his Queen of Dragons back in his arms, to know she was safe and all right. He worried constantly about her when she wasn't here, more than he ever let on to her. She would likely not thank him. 

_Come home soon, Liriel. Please._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always did wonder in the Cure for Madness where Cicero goes if you spare him. Does he stay in the Sanctuary, and what happens when Nazir and Babette show up, where does he go then? So rather than have him all alone in Dawnstar, I've sent him off to the Forsworn instead. He'll love it, but Madanach may start turning to drink...


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cicero is settling in well enough at Druadach Redoubt, in fact he's fitting in better than anyone could have anticipated. However, as Liriel sets off on her next adventure, it turns out there's more to the House of Madanach than she thought...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for implied femdom BDSM between Cicero and Kaie.

Liriel rode her horse hard all the way from Markarth. What with having to walk from Dawnstar back to Falkreath, and catching some sleep at the Windpeak first, and stopping at Whiterun to rest properly and see her girls, and then going to Falkreath and convincing Astrid she really had killed Cicero, spending the night there and then reclaiming her horse and riding for the Reach, it had been a good four days since she'd seen Cicero and Argis off.

Argis hadn't been at Vlindrel Hall when she'd got there, and Nepos hadn't been much more helpful, merely telling her yes, Madanach had got her message, and yes they'd arrived safely and could she possibly get up there as soon as she could, the King was getting restless. Restless?? That could cover anything from mild concern to obsessive worry about her to about to strangle Cicero. She'd left the city immediately and ridden north. Finally Druadach Redoubt loomed ahead of her, the sentries on duty recognising her and waving her through, and to her relief, Shadowmere grazing by the river. They'd made it.

Inside, Druadach Redoubt was quiet, half the camp seemingly out, presumably hunting or scavenging or on a raid of some sort. She couldn't hear Cicero. But there were two Forsworn training, one the young guardswoman Mhairi and the other a red-haired one with his face hidden by the headdress, both dual-wielding with Forsworn weapons, Mhairi trying to attack her opponent who twirled and wove and moved in absolute silence, avoiding every single blow she tried to land, but getting in quite a few on her. 

On the bench nearby, Madanach was sitting watching, cheerfully calling out “Dead!” every time the red-haired Forsworn's weapons landed on Mhairi. He'd not seen her come in. Liriel dropped into a crouch and moved softly, silently over to him. Betsi the goat glanced her way but, clearly recognising her, didn't make a sound.

“Dead,” Liriel whispered, placing a hand on his side as she kissed his cheek. Madanach started, before turning to see who'd dared to sneak up on him. The stony glare vanished as he saw her, and then she was being squeezed half to death in his arms.

“You're alive,” she heard him say gruffly. “Thank the gods, I was worried. Liriel, what happened, are you all right? Tell me the Brotherhood didn't turn on you too.”

“It's fine,” Liriel gasped, feeling her voice catch at the thrill of being held that close. Mara, she'd missed him. “I told them Cicero was dead, I think they believed me. Is he here? Is he all right?”

“Other than the lunacy, yes he's fine,” Madanach began, letting her go, but he didn't get to finish. The red-haired Forsworn glanced her way, squeaked, threw his weapons into the air and sent his headdress flying, and promptly bounced over.

“LISTENER, LISTENER, LISTENER IS BACK!!!!” Cicero shrieked, leaping on to Liriel and nearly knocking her off the bench, clinging on to her for all he was worth. Liriel hugged him back, feeling tears in her eyes and a weight slide off her shoulders. He was here, he was fine, he was clearly happy and settling and...

“Oh my gods, Cicero, what happened to your jester outfit?” Liriel asked, settling him on the bench next to her. He looked so odd without the hat.

“Cicero is not allowed to leave Sanctuary wearing it in case someone recognises him or the story gets back to Astrid,” Cicero said, looking a little sad at this. “So it is currently in the chest up on the top level. Cicero might wear it later. But Cicero still has his hat, look!” He produced the jester hat and pulled it back on his head, grinning brightly up at her.

“You're settling in then,” Liriel said, unable to stop smiling. He just looked so carefree and happy compared to how he'd been at Falkreath. She should have smuggled him out here sooner, although she suspected he'd never have left the Night Mother. “Look at you, you look like a proper Forsworn warrior, I didn't even recognise you at first! Madanach, how on earth did you get him to part with the motley?”

“Told him he wasn't wearing it outside in case word got back to Astrid about him being here, but that if he was willing to dress like one of us, I'd let him go on raiding parties,” said Madanach. “Apparently given a choice between his usual outfit and being allowed to slaughter the Nords, it'll be the violence every time.”

“So much death! So much _blood!_ ” Cicero sighed, clapping his hands and bouncing on the bench, turning adoring eyes on Liriel. “Sweet Liriel, Cicero cannot thank you enough for sending him here! Everyone has been so nice! So friendly! So kind to poor outcast Cicero! They feed him and let him spar with them and Cicero is allowed to go out on raids with his new Forsworn brothers and sisters and _kill everything!_ ” Cicero's eyes gleamed with unholy delight. Dear gods, she'd created a monster. Still, Cicero seemed happy. It was just nice to know they'd been looking after him.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, turning to Madanach. “I'm so sorry for landing you with him at such short notice, but his life was in danger and I couldn't think of anywhere else to send him. Thank you for looking after him, I know he's a bit high-maintenance.”

Madanach shrugged. “I've dealt with worse. He cleans up after himself, can cook quite well, makes a good jenever tonic and he livens the place up. The trick is to keep him busy. Also my daughter has taken a liking to him. Hope the Night Mother isn't expecting him back any time soon.”

“Not sure it's ever going to be safe for him to go back,” Liriel said softly, stroking Cicero's hair. Cicero's smile had faded as he looked sorrowfully up at her. “Not while Astrid's alive.”

“So kill her then,” said Madanach, looking honestly baffled as to why this hadn't been done sooner.

“Because the others would turn on me, and then I'd have to run,” Liriel sighed. “And then Mother would have no one.”

“Because Cicero got angry and tried to stab Astrid and then had to run away,” Cicero sniffled. “Poor Mother. All alone, without her Cicero to care for her! Tell me, Listener, is she all right? Did you tell her Cicero was sorry? Is she angry?”

“I told her,” said Liriel, giving him another hug. “She didn't say anything, but I don't think she blames you. You were just trying to stop Astrid saying horrible things about her.”

Cicero nodded, still sniffling. Madanach was watching him, understanding in his eyes.

“So that's what happened, is it? He tried to kill Astrid, failed and had to run. Not a terribly smart move, boy.”

“She called Mother a wizened old corpse!” Cicero cried. “What's a fool to do when his mother's slandered and mocked? Cicero didn't care that they called him a gibbering idiot and a fool, but the Night Mother is Mother to all!”

“Well, no one's going to do that here, don't you worry,” Liriel murmured, rubbing his back. “No one is, are they, Madanach?” She glanced up at him hopefully. He smiled and shook his head.

“No, no danger of that, I briefed the camp on the importance of not insulting the Night Mother while he was off hunting the other day. Guessed it wouldn't be wise to be careless around the Keeper.”

A very good idea. Whatever Madanach's flaws, he was no fool. She'd chosen well. With Cicero still snuggling in her arms, she leaned against Madanach's shoulder, sighing happily as he put his arms around her.

“He's very affectionate to you. Should I be jealous?” Madanach murmured in her ear.

Jealous?? Oh good gods, no, Cicero was adorable but really not her type. 

“Don't be, he's like a brother to me, but he's not you,” she whispered back. Unfortunately for them both, Cicero had good hearing.

“Jealous? Dear Madanach is jealous? Oh no no no, that will not do at all!” Seconds later, Cicero had wriggled out of Liriel's arms, moved to Madanach's other side and promptly started snuggling up to Madanach too. Madanach growled and tried to push him away but to no avail.

“Keeper, what have I told you about touching me?” Madanach snapped at him.

“Not to do it or you will cast Lightning Cloak again, but you will have to let go of Liriel first,” Cicero purred sweetly. 

“Madanach, don't you dare!” Liriel protested as Madanach promptly removed his arms from Liriel and prepared to cast. Fortunately, Kaie walked in at that moment.

“CICERO AP STELMARIA, ARE YOU HARASSING MY FATHER??”

Cicero shrieked, leapt away from Madanach and half-scrambled, half-glided to where Kaie was glaring at him with her arms folded.

“No, sweetling, never, sweetling!” Cicero cooed, sidling up to her and fluttering his eyelashes. “Cicero is a good boy!”

“I think otherwise,” Kaie said, staring coolly down at him. “I think you're misbehaving again. You know what happens when you misbehave, Cicero.”

Cicero's cheeks went pink, but he was grinning up at her sheepishly. “Oh yes, Cicero does indeed. Does sweet Kaie think Cicero needs some moral guidance?”

Kaie nodded once, cruel grin on her face. “Wait for me in the tent, Cicero.” Cicero promptly squealed and ran off, giggling to himself all the way. Liriel wasn't at all sure what to make of that, it looked like they'd been flirting but surely not...

“Thank Sithis you turned up,” Madanach growled, pulling Liriel back into his arms. “Cicero was being affectionate again.”

“How awful for you,” Kaie grinned. “At least he's stopped calling you sweet Madanach now.”

Madanach visibly shuddered at the mere idea. Liriel bit back the urge to laugh, squeezing his hand. 

“It means he likes you,” Liriel told him. “He was all on his own in Cheydinhal Sanctuary for years after everyone else died or left and the Dark Brotherhood fell apart. He was so lonely, he's now desperate for any scrap of kindness or physical contact he can get.”

“He has my daughter for that, he doesn't need to bother me,” Madanach said tersely. Kaie just grinned, almost preening as she took a seat next to Liriel. 

“Oh he is very good at physical contact, believe me,” Kaie purred, and that was definitely the look of someone who'd recently had some very satisfying sex.

“Are you sleeping with Cicero??” Liriel demanded, suddenly feeling the urge to protect him. He was lonely and vulnerable, he didn't need Kaie taking advantage!

“And?” Kaie asked, raising an eyebrow. “He's quite consenting and knows what he's doing, I assure you.”

“He's insane and vulnerable and hasn't had anyone in years!” Liriel cried. “Don't tell me you're in love with him.”

“No, but that's not the point!” Kaie sighed. “He's there, we're both willing, we're adults, what's the problem? I'm not doing a thing to him he doesn't want.”

It still seemed all wrong to Liriel's ears, and she just hoped Cicero wasn't in love with Kaie because the last thing she wanted was to have to deal with a heartbroken jester when Kaie got bored of him. But she wasn't human and freely admitted she didn't really understand how they saw love and life yet. She guessed when life was so short you had to take what happiness you could get.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But don't break his heart or be cruel to him. Cicero's very loyal but he does not take betrayal well.”

Kaie did soften at that. “Don't worry, he's a sweet little thing. I'll make sure I'm fair to him.” She patted Liriel on the shoulder and got up. “Right, I have a very naughty boy to deal with. I'll see you both later.”

“Muffle spells,” was all Madanach said, waving his daughter off.

“I will if you will,” Kaie said, rather pointedly. Madanach grunted but did at least nod as she ran off to where Cicero was waiting. 

“I can't believe you're completely fine with Cicero having sex with your daughter,” Liriel said, resting back in Madanach's arms again. “I always thought you'd be the overprotective type.”

“He's not having sex with her, she's having sex with him. There's a difference,” said Madanach, shrugging. “Kaie's a grown woman, she can do what she wants. Possibly if she was marrying him, I might have to test his suitability, but the traditional way, sending him off to kill dangerous beasts, isn't even going to be a challenge for him. Liriel, why didn't you tell me he was that young?”

“Young?” Liriel hadn't even thought about Cicero's age. “Is he young?”

Madanach sighed, exasperated. “Liriel, you gave me to understand the role of Keeper was a ceremonial one, where the holder retired his blade. I assumed he'd be my age or older, shifted off to tend to the Night Mother when his body gave out or his mind went. Cicero's barely forty, and while he's utterly mad, he's very functional, and still very cunning.”

“He's certainly a survivor,” Liriel admitted. “Honestly, Madanach, he was made Keeper because they needed one and he seemed like the best choice. They'd just lost their Listener and the Night Mother's crypt. The priority was picking the most loyal one there to ensure the Night Mother's body was preserved. So they went for Cicero. The sad thing was, he was sane back then. It was only after the Night Mother spoke to no one and people started to leave or die that his mind started to go.”

Madanach was quiet, just shaking his head.

“He was wasted on that job,” he said finally. “Liriel, you have no idea... we sent him out with a hunting party to give him something to do because he was getting bored here and we figured he must know how to handle a blade if he'd been an assassin once. They ran into a party of Stormcloaks, him and three of the younglings. Liriel, the way they tell it, it was like watching something from Oblivion itself, like a Dremora leaping into action. He tore through two of them like they weren't even there and gutted a third before any of those with him had even had time to cast their armour. I didn't believe it when they told me, so I led another party myself so I could see him in action. Imagine my surprise when it turned out to be true. Liriel, he's one of the most capable warriors I've ever seen. No one can touch him in sparring, no one. He's fast, small, hard to hit, always moving, sneaks like the best of us, fantastic shot with a bow. They retired him, why?”

“I don't know,” Liriel said softly. “There just mustn't have been anyone else. I'm sorry, Madanach.”

“Sorry? Don't be, the Brotherhood's loss is our gain,” Madanach laughed. “The camp love him. The younger ones all think he's some sort of demi-god, he's won over my notoriously picky blood-brothers by listening in awe to all their stories of death and murder, What Shall We Do With The Captured Stormcloak has five new and very violent verses, and as you can see, my daughter's taken a fancy to him. I'm afraid we're keeping him.”

Liriel slowly raised her eyes to his. He wasn't joking, she could tell. 

“You – you mean it? You all actually like him? You don't think he's a gibbering lunatic or anything?”

“Oh believe me, we think he's exactly that,” said Madanach. “But just because he's more than a little Void-touched doesn't mean he's not useful or likeable. We'll look after him for you, Liriel, don't worry.”

Liriel reached out, pulled him to her and kissed him for all she was worth. Words just weren't enough to thank him with. He'd taken in her sweet, insane, lonely brother and looked after him, given him a new purpose. For that alone, she'd love him. Madanach was kissing her back, fingers trailing over her collarbones and down her back, and as a hand trailed over her breasts, he was whispering in her ear, “shall we take this back to my tent, cariad?”

Liriel couldn't agree more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It was several hours later by the time Liriel finally emerged, brushing her hair into shape, always feeling a little nervous about facing the rest of the camp after a session with Madanach. No one ever said a word, but they all knew what had been going on, even if Madanach had at least cast a modified Muffle spell on the tent flaps this time. She still couldn't get her head around how no one seemed to care what they'd been up to. Last time, she'd emerged afterwards, been greeted by Braig as if nothing had happened and calmly passed a bowl of stew. 

This time, it was to find her own housecarl sitting by the camp fire in Forsworn armour, stirring something in the pot. Now this was awkward.

“Er... hi Argis?” 

“My Th-” he stopped and laughed, looking a little embarrassed. “Liriel. Guess you're not really Thane here, are you?”

“I'm not sure what I am here, to be honest,” Liriel admitted, taking a seat round the fire from him. “Not Reach-Queen, that's for certain.”

“Wouldn't dream of calling you that,” said Argis, retrieving a bowl and filling it for her. “Venison stew? Hunted the deer myself earlier.”

“Dressed like that?” Liriel asked. It was very unusual to see Argis in anything that wasn't heavy armour, and a little uncomfortable if she was honest. Not that her own Forsworn gear was any less revealing, but at least she was used to wearing it. 

“Can't sneak in steel plate,” was all Argis said. “Also it's a bit of a giveaway for a party of Forsworn to have a heavily armoured Nord tagging along.”

“You're not a Nord, you just look like one.” Madanach had emerged by this time, and Argis wordlessly produced a bowl of food for him without even blinking. 

“Yes sir,” Argis said, in the resigned tones of someone who'd been told this hundreds of times before but had given up arguing. 

“Now if you could say it with some conviction next time, that would be even better,” said Madanach a little pointedly as he took a seat next to Liriel. “So Liriel, how's he been as a housecarl? No trouble, I trust?”

“No, he's been very helpful and very loyal,” said Liriel, wondering what was going on here. There was a strange subtext to this whole conversation, and while Liriel was fairly certain that Madanach trusted Argis or he'd never have got this far, she also wasn't sure why Madanach seemed to be putting him through his paces like this. “He's a good housecarl, very understanding about the whole Dragonborn business and helping the Forsworn and desperate missions of rescue in the middle of the night.” She shot Argis what she hoped was a reassuring smile and to her surprise, he smiled back.

“I worked for him for fifteen years, I'm quite used to dealing with unreasonable requests at short notice,” Argis told her, grinning. Liriel bit her lip and tried not to laugh. Madanach was looking most put out, but surprisingly, not enraged or offended.

“Lad, I hope you weren't just giving me lip in my own camp,” Madanach said sternly.

“No sir,” said Argis quickly, sounding a little bit like Cicero did when he protested his innocence of some misdemeanour that he was almost definitely guilty of.

“Should hope not,” Madanach growled. “Now, I imagine Liriel won't be staying for too long, as she's got important Dragonborn business to attend to – Argis, when she leaves, you'll be going with her. Remember your orders with regards to her, she's important.”

“To protect her with my life, I know,” said Argis softly, looking away. To Liriel's surprise, Madanach's gaze softened a little as he watched Argis. 

“And as for you, Dragon-Queen, your job is to look after yourself and make sure he doesn't have to. No stupid risks, no getting him or you killed. I want him back in one piece, understand?”

“Understood,” said Liriel, snuggling into Madanach and kissing him on the cheek. She still didn't know what was going on exactly between Madanach and Argis but it was clear there was a mutual affection and respect there. Madanach had clearly assigned one of his best to watch over her – sacrificing an undercover agent to better guard his intended queen. She'd make sure it didn't go to waste.

“I'll look after him, I promise,” she told Madanach. 

“See that you do, he's irreplaceable,” said Madanach gruffly. Liriel imagined it would indeed be hard to find another Nord-Reachman half-blood with Forsworn sympathies at short notice.

“I won't get your best agent killed, I promise,” she told him. Madanach went still, before hugging her just that bit tighter. Very, very strange. After a moment's awkward silence, Madanach changed the subject and the conversation passed to lighter topics, leaving Liriel to ponder. Something was going on here, and Liriel was determined to find out what it was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next day saw Liriel and Argis preparing to leave, Liriel reclaiming Shadowmere while Argis took Liriel's horse. What looked like the entire camp turned out to see them off. Kaie was there, Cicero bouncing at her side, giving first Liriel a hug and then Argis. Liriel had been surprised to see Kaie and Argis knew each other, right up until Kaie had explained Argis had invariably been the one sneaking her in to see Madanach every week for the last decade and more. There was definite friendship there. Then there'd been Cicero, clinging on to Liriel and begging the dear, sweet Listener to take care and not get killed and to check on Mother for him, before Kaie finally peeled him off her and promised to make sure Cicero was all right. Cicero had snuggled into Kaie's arms, cooing at her – something Liriel still couldn't get her head round, the idea of Cicero having sex. Still, he seemed happy, despite the scratches and lovebites visible under his Forsworn gear. 

Finally Madanach stepped forward, staring intently at Argis and making him promise to take care of his Dragon-Queen and looking for a moment as if he was about to embrace Argis – but in the end he settled for patting his arm, and turning to Liriel.

“Whatever mad dragon business you've got to take care of now, you make sure you don't die, you hear me? You get back here and bring – bring the lad back too.”

“I will,” Liriel whispered, breathing him in as she made the most of having him in her arms again. “I promise. You take care too.”

He nodded and kissed her and for a few moments nothing else mattered or barely existed, just the two of them, arms around each other, lips on hers, the warmth of his body and being able to sense his magicka crackling quietly under his skin, power to match her own, and there was a reason she'd given in and fallen for him and those impressive magical skills were it. Maybe her lover didn't have to be a mer after all, but the one thing she'd never compromise on was the magic.

Finally, it was time to go. Liriel mounted Shadowmere, Argis behind on her own horse, and the camp waved her off. Madanach stood watching the longest, not moving until they were out of sight, and Cicero also chased after, waving and calling “kill well, Listener! Kill lots of things!”

Liriel waved back until Shadowmere turned the corner and they were gone. Argis spurred his mount alongside Liriel's.

“We're not going back to Markarth then.” Liriel had ridden north and east, not south, clearly intending to leave the Reach by its northern border.

“No.”

“So where are we going then, my thane?” Argis was nothing if not persistent. She might as well tell him. She'd not told Madanach as she was worried he'd lose his temper and try and stop her, but Argis had more sense than to try and get in a Dragonborn's way.

“Winterhold. You know I'm Archmage there? I need to use the Arcanaeum. Need to see what we've got on Elder Scrolls. I need one to find out how to stop Alduin.”

Argis actually laughed and fell quiet for a few moments before speaking up again.

“Seriously, Liriel, where are we really going?”

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“We're really going to the College,” Argis had said, only shivering a little as he saw to the horses, leaving them settled by the inn. He seemed more intimidated by the College than actually cold.

“We really are,” Liriel said, taking his arm. “Come on, you're fine with a Forsworn camp but not this?”

“Different,” Argis muttered. “I'm one of them even if I never could get the hang of magic. What if the wizards start judging me? My thane, I can barely cast the Flames spell. Da loved me anyway but I could tell I was a disappointment.”

“No one's judging you,” Liriel soothed him. “You're here as an honoured guest of the Archmage. It'll be fine.”

Argis muttered under his breath and edged closer to Liriel as he followed her over the bridge, only wincing a little at the broken bit that always gave Liriel the shivers too. But eventually they were in, and Argis calmed down once inside. 

It turned Urag had very little on the Elder Scrolls, nothing but something on Moth Priests and the ramblings of a lunatic that Liriel took one look at and wished she'd brought Cicero. Maybe getting someone else fluent in Lunatic to look at it would help. Still, it wasn't completely fruitless – Urag had been able to tell them the author was still out there, in the icefields, still researching. Liriel pocketed the book and decided to venture out there tomorrow. 

Which left her and Argis spending the night in the Archmage's Quarters, with no spare bed.

“I, er, is there anywhere I can sleep?” Argis asked, looking nervous.

Well, there was her old dorm bed in the Hall of Attainment, but Argis looked even more panicked at the idea of sleeping alone in a dorm full of wizards.

“It's fine, I'll take the floor, there's a rug over there,” he said quickly. Liriel threw her hands in the air.

“It's not fine, you'll freeze!”

“What about a chair, I don't mind sleeping upright, done it before,” said Argis, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“For the love of Sithis, man, take the damn bed!” Liriel shouted, Thu'um-laced voice making the walls shake. “Sleep alongside me, I promise I won't molest you, you're not my type.” He really wasn't, although Liriel wasn't blind either and on a purely physical level, Argis was definitely an attractive man. But she couldn't feel his magicka, not like she could Madanach's. Argis' magicka pool was there, but tiny compared to the Reach-King's. 

“Now you're starting to sound like him,” Argis muttered, slight grin on his face as he started to take his armour off. “Look the other way then, Reach-Queen. Keep on acting like Madanach, and I can promise you you won't be remotely my type either.”

Liriel dimmed the lights and politely looked the other way as Argis crawled into bed. She disappeared round the corner, changed into a full night-shift and hastily ran back, diving under the covers before the cold could bite. 

“Why, why did they build this place so far north??” she whispered. There was a reason she didn't visit all that often, and that was the constant cold. 

“No idea,” Argis muttered, edging a bit closer to her for warmth. “You're Archmage, you can go hassle the Orc librarian and find out, can't you?”

“I think I've hassled him enough for one day,” Liriel whispered.

“Want me to hassle him for you?” Argis whispered back. “Magic or not, I could take him in a fist-fight.”

“No!” Liriel gasped, fighting back a fit of the giggles. “No fighting my staff, Argis! You'll get thrown out! Honestly, you're meant to be a Forsworn in Nord's clothing, you're meant to respect magic.”

“I do,” and Argis' mood had shifted, his cheerfulness evaporating and giving way to sadness. “I just wish I could be really one of them, a proper Reachman like Da. He keeps telling me I'm one where it matters, but I look like a Nord, I can't use magic and even if I gave all the right signals, I don't think I'd be welcome at any camp other than his.”

Any camp other than his... and Liriel realised the blindingly bloody obvious once she thought about it. Forsworn father who'd saved him from the Nord invasion of Markarth – no, not saved him, sent people to get him to his camp. Druadach Redoubt, his camp then and now.

“You're Madanach's son,” Liriel breathed and from the way Argis had gone tense, she knew she was right.

“Oh gods,” she heard him say, and she didn't even think a man could sound that terrified. “I didn't mean to, no one's meant to know, Kaie doesn't even know, please don't tell anyone, please...”

“Argis,” Liriel whispered, moving closer and putting an arm around him. “Argis, it's all right, it's fine, it's... how?? Well alright, I know how, but Madanach and a Nord woman? I thought he hated them all.”

“Oh he still does,” Argis said bitterly. “But he made an exception for Ma. She was a hunter, used to live out in the hills above Soljund's Sinkhole. One day she was out hunting and came across the aftermath of a fight between the Forsworn and the guards. Everyone was dead apart from one of the Forsworn, and he was badly injured. Ma didn't care about politics, never did, so she gave him some healing potions and got him back to her little cabin, nursed him back to health, hid him when Nord soldiers called round asking if she'd seen any Forsworn in the area. He had to leave eventually but not before they'd got a little friendly. When he left, he left her pregnant. She moved to the city after she found out, got a job as the blacksmith's assistant. I grew up not knowing who my father was and not caring, not until I was eight years old and the Forsworn took Markarth. Ma was quite prepared to fight, right up until she saw who was leading them. He saw her too and they just stared at each other, and then he saw me looking out from the doorway to our house. Then he ordered the Forsworn to leave her be, the city would need good weaponsmiths, and left a couple of guards to keep an eye on us. A few days later they crowned him Reach-King, and his wife Reach-Queen alongside him, his three little girls declared princesses, and one of them, the eldest, was around my age. We ended up becoming playmates, Eithne and me, and then the King himself started using that as an excuse to visit. I don't think he and Ma were ever lovers again, but there were always guards wandering past, keeping an eye on her and me, and Da himself stopping by and playing with Eithne and me, trying to teach us magic and sword-fighting. I was never any good at magic, but Eithne was a natural. Always told her I'd marry her when I grew up. Didn't know she was my sister at the time of course, didn't know the Reach-King was my damn father. Guess he didn't want it getting out he had a half-Nord son. He always told me later that it was because he didn't want Queen Mireen finding out and killing Ma and me, but I don't know if he'd have been as careful if I'd been a true son of the Reach.”

“You are,” Liriel found herself saying. “Sithis, Argis, he loves you. He said you were irreplaceable and for me to bring you back in one piece. I thought he just didn't want to lose a valued agent, but damn it all, he's your father, of course he is.”

“Yeah. Yeah, he is and he does, I know, and I'd do anything for him, but... it's hard, seeing him with Kaie and wishing I could call him father too.” Argis had rolled over on to his back, staring at the ceiling. “I used to back when they first brought me to Druadach Redoubt. I was ten years old, the Stormcloaks had just murdered my mother in front of me, the Forsworn guards got there too late to save her, but they were able to fight the Nords off long enough for one of them to find me and get me out of the city. There's secret passages out into the mountains all over Markarth if you know where to look. Madanach got out of one, Queen Mireen got out of another with the Reach-Princesses, and the guards with me took me after my father. When I finally got there, scared and traumatised and crying for my mother, they took me into this Forsworn camp with goats' heads all over the place and tents and Forsworn warriors and then there's the damn Reach-King looking utterly wiped out, looking worse than I felt, and I just burst into tears again, right there in front of the King himself and...” Argis took a deep breath, clearly not far off crying again, Liriel certainly had tears in her eyes. Sithis, if that had been either of her babies... 

“It's all right,” Liriel whispered, patting his arm. “It's OK, it was a long time ago.”

“Feels like yesterday,” Argis said quietly. “Da took one look at me and his whole expression changed, just despair giving way to hope, and he asked the guard what happened to Ma. They told him she'd been killed and he looked genuinely grieved then got down on his knees next to me and held me and told me he was sorry, so sorry he'd not been able to save Ma but he'd look after me now, the Forsworn looked after their own. I told him I wasn't one, but he just held me and told me yes I was, I was Argis ap Madanach and for as long as he drew breath, he'd make sure his son was taken care of. Of course, back then he didn't know if his wife and daughters had made it out, for all he knew, I was all he had left. But I didn't care back then. I was scared and unhappy and it turned out my da was the Reach-King that was. He swore the entire camp to secrecy on pain of something extremely unpleasant happening, and because he was the damn King in Rags, everyone kept their mouths shut. I lived there for five years – Da wasn't always there, he was visiting other camps, mainly the one Mireen and the girls had holed up at, but the place was home and I was happy. He kept his word, looked after me, taught me how to fight. I remembered seeing the way everyone looked up to him and wanting to be just like him. Then one day Eithne showed up, insisting her mother was being impossible and she'd had enough. So of course Da then had to tell her she had a brother and she was mostly just really annoyed that she couldn't marry me now. But she was really pleased to see me again, and so was I. We used to get up to all sorts of mischief. She'd been there for a matter of months when the Nords tracked us down finally. They butchered the entire camp, I only survived because Da locked me in the cage before they breached the camp, made it look like I was a hostage. I had to watch while they killed everyone in front of me, and then that Stormcloak bastard just Shouted my sister to the floor and ran her through, and Da... He'd been fighting like a maniac, magic everywhere, cutting a bloody swathe through them all, and by the time they got to her, there were just a handful left, Ulfric, Thonar and Thongvor Silver-Blood, Igmund, one or two others. Then Eithne went for Ulfric, the little idiot, and he just butchered her to death. Da surrendered after that. The fight just died out of him when Eithne did. I don't think he'd have even cared if they'd killed him after that.”

Liriel had heard it before from Madanach, knew he still grieved even now, twenty years on, but to hear it confirmed by someone else, someone also grieving and who couldn't even admit his grief openly... She could see silent tears on his cheeks, and she knew the tears were rolling down her own.

“He ended up in Cidhna Mine, I ended up in the guards,” Argis finished. “I got approached by Nepos the Nose not long after Da was imprisoned, asking if I still wanted to help the cause. Told him I'd love to help stick it to the bastards who killed Eithne. Turned into a Forsworn agent right there. Never told anyone why though. Wasn't safe. Still isn't. Everyone in that camp who knew I was his son died, except Da himself. He knows, so does Nepos, but no one else. Not even Kaie. Between the Nords and fear of what his wife might do, Da's acted like I'm not his.”

“He's not done that brilliant a job of it,” said Liriel, recalling all the little interactions between Madanach and Argis that she'd seen at the camp. The odd mix of deference and teasing on Argis' part, the mix of pride and worry on Madanach's. No wonder he'd wanted Argis out of the guards once he got out of prison and didn't need a liaison any more. She had to wonder, was Argis really intended to protect her, or did Madanach want his son under the protection of the fiercest fighter in Skyrim? It didn't even matter by this point. Argis was her friend and she'd be damned if he came to any harm. 

“He's different when there's no one else about. And he trusts you. You're good for him. Thank you, stepma.”

“Definitely do not call me that,” Liriel shuddered. “Honestly, I think I preferred Reach-Queen.”

“Sorry,” Argis said, not sounding remotely sorry, and how she'd not seen the resemblance sooner was beyond her. 

“Your father's going to be when I next see him,” said Liriel, thinking of all the things she was going to be shouting at him when she next saw him. “He never told me. You're my damn housecarl and he never said you were his son?? His wife's not even alive any more, he can stop hiding you, from the Forsworn anyway.”

“Kaie's still alive,” said Argis softly. “Kaie loved her mother a great deal. I don't think she'd react too well to knowing her father was unfaithful once.”

“Once,” Liriel said softly. “Thirty years ago at least – thirty five years ago in fact. Everyone has their weaknesses. He and I are going to have words when we next see him. Count on it, Argis.”

“I'll write and tell him to flee the country now,” said Argis calmly. Liriel shoved him in the side, and then both of them burst out laughing. 

“He'll never leave the Reach, not now,” she finally said, drying her eyes. 

“No, not now,” said Argis, turning serious again. “He'll be Reach-King again or die trying.”

Liriel really wished he'd not mentioned Madanach dying. The mere thought made her heart ache and reminded her some problems were beyond even a Dragonborn's powers. 

She couldn't worry about it now. She had a Scroll to find and a world to save. Deal with Alduin first. Then sort out the Reach's problems. Which of the two was going to be easier, she couldn't even begin to guess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Ap' is from the Welsh for son of - I'm having the Forsworn use it as a generic term meaning 'child of'. Usually the name of the same-sex parent is used, but not if you're either a son who never knew his father, or a daughter whose father is very high-status.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liriel just can't avoid meddling, and while most of it has a knack of turning out well, one unavoidable decision could ruin everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some slightly rough sex and creative use of Restoration magic. A little bitty, this one, but it was a vitally important bridge to the part where Things Get Interesting.

“You did what!?”

“Found an Elder Scroll,” said Liriel cheerfully, twirling the golden cylinder around for all of Druadach Redoubt to see. “It was hidden in this big machine right at the bottom of this huge Dwemer city called Blackreach. Argis was right there helping, weren't you, Argis?”

“I hate the Falmer,” was all Argis felt like saying. Despite the ebony armour Liriel had found for him down there, he'd still not entirely forgiven her for dragging him through all that. 

Madanach had to sit down at this point, pouring himself a large tumbler of jenever. 

“So after my specific instructions not to get yourselves killed and to take care, you end up delving into dangerous Dwemer ruins and messing with things humanity was not supposed to interfere with and bring THAT back here? Liriel, I hope there's a good reason for this?”

“It's a very important part of the fight against Alduin,” Liriel protested, before a flash of red behind her caught her attention. “NO, CICERO, PUT IT DOWN!”

Cicero pouted as he closed the Scroll and reluctantly handed it back over. “It was pretty!” he complained. “Pretty and shiny with pretty patterns on it!”

“Sithis' sake,” Liriel swore, reclaiming it before Cicero could do any serious damage with it. He was just fortunate he didn't have a lot in the way of arcane knowledge, not enough to do any damage with anyway. “Can't you leave anything alone for five minutes?”

Cicero kept pouting. “Cicero was curious,” he muttered. “Cicero is never allowed to look at anything interesting.”

“You see plenty of interesting things,” Madanach snapped at him. “Kaie! KAIE! Your friend is playing up again. Deal with him before I do.”

Kaie sighed, getting up from where she was lounging in her tent. “Fine, fine.” She came to sit behind Cicero, snuggling him from behind and ensuring his hands were restrained in the process. “Is that a real Elder Scroll? What are you going to do with it, Liriel?”

“I'm going up the Throat of the World with it,” Liriel said, stroking the Scroll's outer case. “I need to use it to see into the past there and learn the Shout used to defeat Alduin, and then I have to find him and kill him.”

Madanach, already slumped over the table, shuddered and took another swig of jenever. 

“Dear gods, why can't I have a queen with nice, safe interests like needlework or gardening?” Madanach muttered. Next to Liriel, Argis started to snicker, before catching Kaie's eye and the two of them lost it entirely.

“Needlework and gardening!” Kaie howled, tears rolling down her face. “Argis, sweetie, can you imagine? Some sweet little innocent maiden ending up with him!”

“Not sure who I'd feel more sorry for,” Argis laughed, recovering enough to take a sip of mead. “The poor girl or him. You know what he's like. He'd be bored to tears with someone safe.”

“Listener is probably very good at stabbing people with needles!” Cicero chirped up, sending them all off into hysterics again. Madanach growled at all three of them, before grabbing the bottle and retreating to his tent. Leaving them to it, Liriel got up and followed him in, taking the Scroll with her. Time to have a few choice words with the King in Rags about his family.

He was lying down on the bed, arm over his face. Liriel secured the Scroll in his chest and and stretched out alongside him.

“I'm sorry, Madanach,” she said, gently placing a hand on his stomach. “But Argis has a point, you'd never have fallen in love with anyone safe.”

“Can't say I ever have, no,” Madanach sighed wearily. “But even Mireen never messed about with Elder Scrolls. Do you know what you're doing, Dragon-Queen?”

The answer to this one was no, without a shadow of a doubt, but Liriel wasn't going to admit that.

“I've got it all under control,” Liriel reassured him. “Don't worry, what's the worst that could happen?”

Madanach promptly rolled over, pushing her back and climbed on top of her, glaring down at her as he pulled her legs around him. 

“You get yourself killed, Argis killed, that Scroll rends a hole into the fabric of time, all Oblivion pours through it and the dragons eat us all?” he snarled. 

“It won't happen,” Liriel soothed him, stroking his face. “I promise.”

“You promise,” Madanach said, not remotely mollified. “You can guarantee that won't happen, can you?”

Well, no. “But if I don't do it, Alduin will kill us all eventually!” Liriel sighed. “You know what the dragons are doing, you know that no matter how often you kill them, they come back unless I'm there, because Alduin keeps raising them! I can't be everywhere, Madanach. I need to stop this at source, and killing Alduin is all that will do it. I'm sorry, cariad.”

Madanach closed his eyes, the anger fading as he nuzzled her cheek.

“Don't die,” he murmured. “I've already lost three children, a wife, countless friends and former comrades. I can't lose any more, I just can't.”

“You won't,” Liriel whispered, pulling him to her and running her fingers through his hair. “You won't lose any more children, I promise. I won't let your son die.”

Madanach went very still, before rolling off her, lying back on the bed.

“How did you find out about that,” he whispered, voice low and dangerous. “ _No one_ is supposed to know about that, for the boy's own safety!”

“I guessed,” said Liriel, deciding not to mention Argis had inadvertently given it away. “And he's thirty five, hardly a boy any more. Madanach, why did you never tell me?”

Madanach sighed, seeming to give in – in fact, part of him just looked relieved to be able to admit it to someone. 

“I'm sorry, Liriel. I didn't know how you'd react, and admitting to an illegitimate son running around isn't something a man's usually proud of.” 

“But you did before,” Liriel whispered. “He was your acknowledged son when they brought him here, you called him Argis ap Madanach and swore an entire camp to secrecy.”

“Of course I did, what would you do when faced with your crying ten year old son who's just seen his mother killed and thinks he's an orphan?” Madanach sighed. “I'm not a complete monster. And Liriel, do not think for a moment it was easy keeping that knowledge from Mireen – I had to have at least three people staked out with salt in their wounds and honey on their skin because they gossiped where they shouldn't. An overreaction perhaps, but no one endangers my children.”

“Nor mine,” Liriel said quietly. “Listen, if you want, I can send him back to Markarth, take someone else? I've got another friend who'd happily give me a hand if I asked her.”

“No, no,” Madanach said, closing his eyes. “Despite the fact you're completely mad, I think he's safer with you than anywhere. And he's not a child, he's a grown man, and I know he can fight. He may not be any good at magic, but he's strong, resilient, can handle virtually any weapon put in his hands – Liriel, he's faster in heavy armour than a lot of my Forsworn are in light. He's a fine warrior, and I'm very proud of him, and he knows that even if I can't be open about it.”

“No,” Liriel heard herself say, her tone sharper than she'd meant it to be. “He thinks he's a disappointment because he's not a true Reachman, and that he'll never mean as much to you as Kaie does. He adores you, worships the ground you walk on, and he thinks he'll never be good enough for you. Damn it, Madanach, your wife is dead, he's not working for the Jarl any more, he's sworn to me, what does it matter if the Forsworn find out he's your son? They already know he's an agent of yours. Wouldn't it make it better for them to know why you trust him so much?”

“Kaie would be heartbroken,” said Madanach softly, still not meeting her eyes. “She'd never trust me again.”

“Argis is heartbroken now!” Liriel snapped, remembering how he'd sounded when he'd finally confessed everything, how scared and unhappy he'd been and really no grown man should still be in thrall to their father like that – but when your father was the fearsome King in Rags, Liriel guessed it was a lot more complicated than that. All the same, damned if she was going to sit back and let her housecarl get hurt. “Look, they're clearly friends, they were laughing and joking out there just now like the old comrades they are, I think she'll cope with the news he's her half-brother.”

“You do, do you?” Madanach finally looked at her, eyes narrowing, that cold grey gaze giving her the shivers. “Think you know more about my family than I do, hmm?”

“I know about family,” said Liriel, meeting his eyes despite her heart pounding. “Will you at least think about it?”

Silence. For a long moment, silver stared into gold. Then Madanach finally nodded.

“I'll consider it,” he said, and Liriel guessed that was as close to a yes as she was ever likely to get. 

“Thank you,” she told him, kissing his forehead. Madanach growled and pulled her to him, rolling on top of her once more. 

“And now we're done talking about my children, perhaps we could move on to more important matters? Such as the fact you've been gone nearly a week and I've been going half-crazy with worry and not having your beautiful self here.”

“I'm very sorry,” Liriel murmured, lowering her gaze and doing her best to look demure. “How would you like me to make it up to you?”

Madanach reached down and slid a hand under her Archmage robes. “Let me show you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She needed a favour. Of course she needed a favour, Sithis forbid she turn up just for the pleasure of his company. Honestly, if she wasn't pretty and magically talented and turning out to be talented at many other things besides and able to kill dragons and indeed anything else that crossed her, he'd have shown her the door weeks ago. As it was, he must be getting soft in his old age because those beautiful yellow eyes had a way of melting his resolve.

“What is it?” Madanach asked wearily. “Tell me it's at least within the realms of the possible and something I can actually give you?”

“Would I ask you for the impossible?” Liriel asked, innocent eyes gazing hopefully up at him, red hair fanning out around her head.

“After bringing an insane jester and an Elder Scroll here, frankly I've given up on predicting anything you're likely to do,” Madanach murmured, tracing a fingertip over one of her ears. Sithis, he loved her ears, loved the delicate points and the tiny little lobes and the way she shivered when he touched them. “So what do you need this time? An elixir made of the combined blood of three different kinds of elf? The legendary Staff of Magnus? A weapon that can blot out the sun?”

“Five different kinds of elf but I'm working on it,” said Liriel. “And I've already got the Staff of Magnus. No, I just need help killing someone.”

Madanach decided not to even ask about the elf-blood elixir, or how on earth she got hold of the Staff of Magnus. Murder on the other hand, that he could help with. 

“Need help, do you? Why, who's the target? Tell me it's not one of us?”

“He's not a Reachman, no, but he does live in Markarth,” said Liriel. “He's the chef at the keep, Anton Virane. He's... well... he has some information we need, and I need to get it out of him and then kill him so he doesn't talk. You've got experience murdering people on the streets, I was hoping you could give me some advice.”

Virane, Virane... Madanach knew that name. Breton chef who loudly made a point of insisting he was not a Reachman, as if that was a bad thing. Not someone whose death would exactly benefit the Forsworn, but not someone he needed alive either, and making the perils of thinking oneself above the Reach natives when in actuality you were indistinguishable from one of them quite clear could be beneficial... yes, he could handle this.

“No problem, leave it to me,” Madanach murmured, plotting the details. “I'll send word to Nepos – when you get to the city, let him know the day before you plan to interrogate the man. He can get the whole thing set up for you, cariad. Don't worry, I've got plenty of agents who'll be happy to take care of him for you.”

“I didn't mean - !” Liriel cried. “I'm quite capable of doing my own killing, you know!”

“I know,” Madanach purred, nipping at her ear. “But see it from my point of view. I could let you go off on your own to assassinate this man, or alternately I could get Nepos to make the arrangements in advance for you, and you can spend the time saved here with me instead. How does that sound, macreena?”

“I thought men your age had trouble getting hard again right after sex?” Liriel asked, smirking up at him. Not for much longer, of that he was going to make certain.

“I don't know how skilled you are in Restoration magic,” he breathed in her ear. “But I have been studying that school extensively since I got out of prison, and it turns out that once a certain level of skill has been reached, it's possible for healing magic to restore more than just one's health. Witness.”

One casting later and Liriel was squealing as he'd rolled on to his back and hauled her on top of him, watching in amusement as he slid inside her and her eyes fluttered closed.

“That is cheating,” she whispered as his fingers closed on her hips, pulling her to him.

“Are you complaining?” he teased, loving the expression on her face as he moved inside her, beautiful golden skin on show and those gorgeous breasts within touching distance and damn, he'd always loved Altmer women. It was the eyes and the cheekbones and all that magicka seething away under their cool exterior. He'd never had a chance to have one though. Not until now. Until Liriel the Dragonborn had walked into his cell in Cidhna Mine and managed to look like a queen even in prison rags. He'd felt the magicka raging from three feet away. Of course he'd wanted her. He'd even been tempted to proposition her in return for helping her escape, but mercifully he'd had sufficient wit to send her off to get indoctrinated into the Forsworn cause instead. All the same, those hours when she'd been lying asleep in his prison bed and he'd been able to do nothing at all about it had been a slow form of torture. 

He'd endured it any way. All significant moments in a Reachman's life should happen under the sky, and taking Liriel for the first time was something he'd intended to be one of them. He'd known he'd see her again on the outside. He could tell from the way she'd glared at him constantly but still cared enough to see to his comfort. He'd got to her, just as she'd got to him. And now she was his, riding him and crying out as he raked his nails down her back, kissed her furiously and entwined his fingers in her hair, his beautiful Altmer losing it in his arms. 

“Madanach, love you, don't stop, please, please, yes, love you, yes!” she cried as she came, and Madanach finally let go himself, it being the declaration of love that set him off. Lust getting the better of her he could understand, but he could still barely believe she felt the same way he did. Afterwards she nestled in his arms and he just held her, stroking her hair and that perfect skin of hers and never wanting her to go. Stubborn, infuriating, somehow always managing to surprise him, and never mind him ruining her for anyone else, she'd completely destroyed his chances of ever finding another. No one was ever going to live up to a Dragonborn, no one. It was a good thing he had an heir, really. And if anything happened to Kaie, he could always acknowledge Argis publically and get the lad married off to a Reachwoman, that would work.

All this for an Altmer who some might call more trouble than she was worth. Madanach didn't care. She was worth the whole world to him. Even if she did seem to be intent on getting herself killed doing something spectacularly dangerous. Well, right here, right now, she was in his arms, safe and protected. He'd bought himself a few days with her. Time to make the most of it.

~~~~~~~~~ 

Three mornings later, and the agents for Virane's murder were in place, and Liriel and Argis were heading off. Goodbyes were said, shrieking and bouncy from Cicero, affectionate if teasing from Kaie, Liriel petting Cicero and telling him to behave, giving Kaie a hug and a long embrace for Madanach. Argis growled at Cicero, gripped Kaie's hand and hugged her, and then came to Madanach, hesitating before him.

“Don't die,” said Madanach gruffly. “You're her housecarl, I'm told that means you can override her orders if it's for her own safety.”

“Sworn to my service, Argis!” Liriel shouted, glaring at Madanach. Argis lowered his eyes, hiding a smile. 

“I'll be sure to keep us both alive, sir,” he said quietly. A look of pain flickered across Madanach's face as he said it, as it had done for the last couple of days every time Argis called him sir. 

“You do that, lad,” Madanach said, patting his arm. “Don't break an old man's heart.”

“I won't,” Argis said, gripping Madanach's hand in his own for the briefest of seconds before mounting Liriel's horse. Liriel was already mounted on Shadowmere. A few more goodbyes, a blown kiss for Madanach from Liriel and then they were gone, Madanach's son and lover riding off to face who knew what. 

_Don't break an old man's heart._ Everyone listening would have thought he meant Liriel, and yes, he would mourn profusely if he lost her. He'd not really expected to take another lover, certainly not find a queen. She'd be hard to replace and he'd miss her horribly. 

Losing his son might just break him. Little Argis, not so little any more, but Madanach had never forgotten coming face to face with Inga again the night they took Markarth, seeing his former lover standing by her forge, battleaxe in hand, but not charging. Just defending her territory. They'd locked eyes, recognised each other and Madanach had felt his heart skip. The one Nord who'd ever been kind to him, saved his life in fact. Then he'd seen the small boy with hair the same colour as his own, exactly the right sort of age to be his, and he'd looked back at her and seen it in her eyes. He had a son. He'd snapped out to leave her, if she stayed in her home with her boy, she was no enemy of his, and Inga had taken the hint and ran back inside, barricading herself and her son in her house. He'd left two of his men on guard and moved on, but he'd not forgotten, and when he'd finally got everything settled down, he'd deliberately let his eldest daughter wander around the city, secretly rejoicing when she'd befriended her half-brother. It had been the perfect opportunity to get to know his son and get to know Inga again. He'd not returned to her bed, he'd got no intention of risking Mireen's wrath. But they'd become friends, and that was more than he'd hoped for. Then the Stormcloaks had come and... He really didn't like remembering that night when everything had slid into the Void. They'd had to drag him out of the city, Nepos telling him to go, he'd take care of things there, they couldn't replace their king. Mireen had had no compunctions about fleeing with the girls, the youngest not even three months old, but Madanach had realised Inga didn't have the protection his queen did, and not even her Nord blood might be enough to save her. He'd sent guards to get her and Argis to safety before finally fleeing as the gates smashed open. 

Several nervewracking hours later, and he'd been preparing himself for the worst, for a city sacked and ruined, countless dead, Inga dead and not pleasantly, he could only guess how they'd treat a collaborator, Argis maybe dead, maybe not, maybe an orphan or at best adopted by a Nord family who'd turn him against the Forsworn and all they stood for, Mireen caught trying to flee with the girls and cut down where she stood and his baby girls dead, all of them, four innocent lives snuffed out. 

And then they'd brought Argis, terrified, sobbing, absolutely traumatised, his mother dead and that had hurt to hear, it really had, but he was here, alive, safe, and Madanach hadn't even hesitated. His son was alive, and he'd sworn there and then that he'd take care of him. Argis had barely believed him and had just cried harder, but he'd not objected when Madanach tucked him up in his own bed and got him food and water. Argis had slept alongside his father until he got too big for the tent, at which point he'd been given his own on the top level. For five years, he'd had a son, a strong and healthy one, brave, fearless, skilled in combat and archery and the ability to give a bear concussion with one punch, which had saved his life and made for an excellent story. Who cared if he towered above the rest of the camp by fifteen and couldn't get to grips with the simplest spells? Madanach loved him anyway, and the feeling was absolutely mutual, he'd known it. Then he'd ended up in Cidhna Mine, seen the Nords take Argis away and he'd been forced to lie, tell them the boy had been captured in a raid, the Hags needed innocent Nord blood for a ritual. He'd not seen the boy for another five years until one day a new guard came in to see him. His son had returned, a man not a boy, left eye gone in what had been a sabre cat attack, but for all that, looking well. Apart from the downcast eyes and quietly calling him sir, not father. A Forsworn agent in the guards, trained by Nepos all this time and having had it driven home that he must act as if Madanach was his king, not his kin. Madanach agreed with the reasoning, but it still broke his heart. All the same, if Mireen had ever found out Argis existed... Madanach couldn't protect him from inside Cidhna Mine, and Argis would be powerless against Mireen's formidable magic. So he'd done the best he could and treated him like just another agent. Now he didn't know how to do anything else. He'd hoped Argis understood anyway, but now Liriel was saying he knew no such thing. His son thought he was a disappointment, and there was nothing Madanach could do about it. He wasn't sure Argis would believe him no matter how much he complimented him. 

“All right,” Madanach announced to the camp. “You lot are heading off to the north. The rest of you, head south. We've got a dire situation on our hands. We're running out of jenever.”

That galvanised everyone and aside from the sentries, the rest of the camp tore out to scour every juniper tree for miles around. All apart from Kaie, who raised an eyebrow and sauntered up to her father. 

“You've got two whole bottles stashed away in your tent, and I've still got a little as well. What are you up to?”

“Wanted the camp cleared,” said Madanach, leading her up to the top tier. “I need to talk to you. In private. Something I should have told you years ago.”

Maybe he couldn't make things as they'd been before. But by the gods, it was about time he did the right thing by his son. Mireen was in her grave and Madanach was done hiding.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Over my dead body!” Anton Virane snapped at the Altmer in red and black staring glacially down at him. “I swore to keep it a secret, and I'll take that secret to my grave.”

The woman leaned in, yellow eyes unblinking.

“For the Dark Brotherhood, that can easily be arranged.”

“The – the Dark Brotherhood.” Now that was a whole other story, and Mara it was true, it had to be, the red and black and those cold yellow eyes, this woman was a true-born killer and no mistake, and weren't there rumours she had escaped Cidhna Mine with the Forsworn? “Now – now wait a minute, I'm sure he wouldn't want me to endanger my own life...”

Liriel listened as Anton babbled the Gourmet's identity, filing away the name and location. An Orc, interesting, she didn't think he'd one of them. Orc cooking was mostly filling and meaty from what she'd heard, not a lot of variety there. Maybe that was why he'd left home and gone to High Rock. Well, he wouldn't be going anywhere once she was done.

“Thank you, you've been very helpful,” she told the hapless chef. “That's all I needed to know. You have a good day now.”

“Wait, that's it?” Anton asked, confused. “I can go?”

“That's it,” Liriel said, smiling. “The Dark Brotherhood don't need anything else. We're done.”

“Oh! I – that's such a relief, thank you!” Anton laughed nervously. “I'll be getting back to work then. You, er, go safely.”

“I will,” Liriel murmured, taking her leave. It was as she got to the passage leading to the Keep's exit that she heard mage armour being cast, Destruction magic flaring and the sound of someone, probably the young man who'd been quietly sweeping the floor in the background, shouting “Glory to the Forsworn!” 

The Dark Brotherhood may have finished with Anton Virane, but the Forsworn were just getting started.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Argis was waiting for her at Vlindrel Hall, ebony armour on, practicing a few moves with Dawnbreaker. He stopped as she walked in, coughing and hastily putting the sword down.

“Er... hello, I was just...er...”

“Training, I know, it's important to practice your fighting skills,” said Liriel, unable to repress a smile. So quiet and modest, unlike his father. It made for a nice change. 

“Right, yeah,” said Argis, looking relieved. “So where now? Doesn't look like you're having to leave in a hurry.”

“No, thankfully, but I do need to get moving. I've got a Scroll to read and work to do.”

“No problem,” said Argis, reaching for his own sword. “When do we leave?”

Here came the part she'd been dreading. “I'm leaving within the hour. You are staying here.”

“What??” Argis cried, and now the resemblance was showing, very definitely. “With all due respect, Liriel, you can't be serious. It's dangerous, you'll need a bodyguard!”

“Yes, it'll be dangerous, which is why you're not going,” said Liriel firmly. “I can't risk you getting hurt, your father will be heartbroken!”

“I'm meant to be guarding you!” Argis cried. “You think he'll be upset if I die, he'll lose it if anything happens to you!”

“You're his son!” Liriel shot back.

“You're his queen!”

“I am not his queen!” Liriel glared at him, wishing the stubborn idiot would just give in already. Yes, no doubt about it, just like his father.

“That's not how he sees it,” Argis growled, glaring back. “Liriel, please. I'm thirty five and a highly trained warrior, I can look after myself.”

“I'm 133 and the Dragonborn Archmage, I'm no pushover myself,” said Liriel, unwilling to back down. Let a member of the House of Madanach get their way once, they'd be impossible forever. “Look, if it helps, I don't intend to go alone, I have another friend lined up. But you're not coming. I'm not risking you any more. Not now – not now I know.”

“Gods damn it, it's not like he never has,” Argis said bitterly. But he knew when to give in to the inevitable. “Fine, Dragon-Queen. Have it your way. But if you get killed...”

“I won't,” said Liriel softly, patting Argis' arm. “Thank you. You're a good man. Madanach does love you, you know. He's proud of you, he told me.”

“Yeah,” said Argis quietly, sitting down and watching as Liriel began to pack. “I'm sure he did.”

Liriel wished she could convince him Madanach meant it, but unless Madanach actually acknowledged Argis openly, she doubted he'd ever truly believe he was good enough for his father. It was sad, especially if they'd once been close. Still, she'd done what she could. She couldn't force Madanach to sort his family out.

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Reading the Scroll had been the easy part. Liriel had taken Eola with her, even got her original Shrouded Armour adjusted to fit Eola properly at Warmaiden's, and they'd gone to the Throat of the World together. Whereupon Eola had shrieked to see Paarthurnax there, then squealed with delight on learning he was friendly and promised not to say a word. Then Liriel had read the Scroll, seen Alduin's banishment, learnt Dragonrend in the process, come back to herself, and then all Oblivion had broken loose as Alduin had turned up. The fight had been a hard one, but Liriel and Eola's magic had carried the day. Alduin fled, but a partial victory was no victory at all in Liriel's eyes. 

“So how do I get to Sovngarde to stop him?” Liriel asked. “Ideally without having to die.”

Paarthurnax had laughed and told her she would not have to die, one of Alduin's allies might be persuaded to help, but first she'd need to trap him. In Dragonsreach. Palace of the Jarl of Whiterun. Now Balgruuf was well-disposed towards Liriel, but not so well-disposed that he'd let her just borrow his palace, not with the war going on anyway. She'd ended up having to persuade Arngeir to host a peace conference between Tullius and Ulfric, to arrange a truce so she could deal with the dragons. 

So here she was, here they all were, and it was not going well. Already they'd nearly had a walk out over Elenwen's presence. Not wanting to be seen as a Thalmor sympathiser by anyone, Liriel had sided with Ulfric on that one, much to Tullius' displeasure. 

Then everything had gone to the Void with Ulfric's next demand.

“We want Markarth,” Ulfric had snapped. “That silver belongs in Skyrim, not being shipped out to Cyrodiil.”

_Markarth... no..._ Liriel had listened, powerless, as the arguing developed and it rapidly became clear that Ulfric wasn't going to back down on this one. If she wanted to defeat Alduin, she'd have no choice but to sell out the Reach. Finally, they'd all stopped to ask her what she thought the Reach was worth. 

“More than you could even begin to understand, Stormcloak,” Liriel hissed. “The Reach belongs to its people, not you.”

“Oh, so it's true about you and the Forsworn then,” Ulfric purred, leaning closer, looking at her with interest. “I had wondered. A word of advice, Dragonborn. Don't get too attached. When I have won this war, I shall make sure my Jarl in the Reach has the full support of my armies in clearing that bandit rabble out for good. Skyrim belongs to the Nords, and I don't intend to let any Breton witches get in the way.”

“You will never win this war,” Liriel breathed, feeling the blood rush to her face as she repressed the urge to destroy him there and then. “Not while there is life in me.” Ulfric looked on, amused.

“You're going to fight the World-Eater – your life might be shorter than you think,” Ulfric laughed. “Don't get too confident, Dragonborn.” He turned back to Tullius, arms folded.

“The Reach for the Stormcloaks, Tullius. My only offer.”

“General, you cannot be serious!” Elisif cried from Tullius' side, and Liriel felt relieved that at least one other person felt similarly to her, albeit for very different reasons.

“I said I'll handle this, Elisif!” Tullius said sternly. Elisif sat back, clearly seething but saying nothing. Liriel felt sorry for her. Poor thing, with Tullius making all the war decisions, it was abundantly clear she didn't have a lot of real power. She wished there was something she could do for her, but what Elisif would probably most want was her husband back and the war over. Liriel couldn't really do a lot about the husband, but at least she could get this whole mess sorted out and Ulfric's head on a pike – one day anyway. For now, she'd just have to lump it.

“We want the Rift,” she heard herself say. “The Rift for the Reach, or no deal.”

Now it was Ulfric's turn to protest, but in the end, he gave up and conceded. There were a few more negotiations after that, but smaller ones, and at length the conference was done. Then a few discussions on the dragon trapping plan, and Delphine trying to get her attention, saying there was a problem, a serious one. Damn right there was. Ulfric Stormcloak's armies were going to be occupying the Reach in days, and Madanach knew nothing. 

Never mind the dragons, Liriel had a King in Rags to warn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Ulfric, you magnificent bastard, you. Why you always got to throw a spanner in the works, hmm? Next chapter, we get to see Madanach's reaction to Liriel having just handed his country over to the Silver-Bloods.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reach is in Stormcloak hands without a sword being drawn, and Madanach doesn't take the news well, leaving Liriel to face Alduin alone, and Cicero and Argis caught in the middle.

The camp was quiet when Liriel reached it, a beautiful morning in the Reach. It had taken all night to get here, but Liriel had a feeling she'd not have slept anyway. The Stormcloaks were going to take over the Reach. How was anyone supposed to sleep knowing that?

A few looks as she came in, but nothing to worry about. Cicero sitting by the campfire, having breakfast with Kaie. Madanach himself emerging from his tent, brushing his Forsworn gear down, clearly not having been up long. He took one look at her and raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“Liriel! Is everything all right? Not that I'm not pleased to see you but you look exhausted. Have you been up all night?”

“Yes, I mean, no, I mean, no it's not all right!” Liriel cried. “Madanach, there was a peace deal at High Hrothgar between the Empire and Stormcloaks. They gave Ulfric the Reach as part of it!”

“What?!” That had Madanach's full attention, and Kaie was getting to her feet, face ashen. Even Cicero looked worried. “A peace conference? Didn't he murder the High King? I thought he wanted nothing less than the throne of Skyrim, independence from the Empire and the right to worship Talos again? Don't tell me the Empire gave him all that.”

“Just the Rift in exchange for the Reach and Ulfric to pay compensation for the Karthwasten massacre. I know it won't hold, Madanach, but I didn't have a choice, I had to stop the civil war to get the Jarl of Whiterun to let me trap a dragon in his palace!”

Madanach had gone very still, eyes colder than Liriel had ever seen them.

“You did this.”

“Madanach, I'm sorry, I didn't have a choice,” Liriel pleaded. It was to no avail. Madanach was advancing, fire at his fingertips, magic barely under control.

“You gave my country over to the Stormcloaks,” he snarled at her. Half the camp was getting to its feet, Kaie reaching for a weapon, Cicero's hand slipping to his dagger.

“It's not your country now!” Liriel pointed out. “The Nords ran it anyway.”

“There are Nords and then there is _Ulfric Stormcloak!!_ ” Madanach roared. “He ravaged this country, his cronies enslaved all of us in their mine, he _killed my daughter,_ and you just handed this country back to him?!”

“I'm sorry,” Liriel whispered. “Please don't... I love you, Madanach.”

He closed his eyes, pain flickering across his face and that hurt more than the anger had.

“Get out,” he said quietly. 

“Madanach?” Liriel whispered, reaching out for him. Madanach stepped away, hands still raised and magic flaring at his fingers.

“I said, _get out!_ ” he shouted at her. “Get out of here, get out of the Reach, don't bother coming back! You are no friend to the Forsworn! And I'll have that back too.” Fire changed to a green spell and the torc flew from her neck and into his hands, bruising her in the process. Liriel cried out, fingering her neck in pain.

“You can't... Madanach!” Liriel whispered, tears in her eyes. He couldn't do this to her, he couldn't!

“Get her out of my camp,” Madanach growled at Kaie. “I don't care how.” Ignoring her, he strode back into his tent, entrance flaps falling shut behind him, and on the lower tiers, Liriel was aware of Forsworn she'd once called friends drawing their weapons and casting mage armour. If she didn't leave, they'd fight her, and she didn't fancy her chances against twenty magic resistant Forsworn. 

“Fine,” she heard herself say, voice shaking but she was determined not to cry, dammit! “I'll go. But when dragons are burning down the Reach, do not come calling for me!” Without another word, she turned and strode out, doing her best to ignore the stares that followed her. She might have lost Madanach, she still had her pride. Maybe it was better this way. Time to find Shadowmere and then get back to Markarth for some rest. Then home. Not like she didn't have business to attend to. 

She managed to keep it together just long enough to get out of the Redoubt and locate Shadowmere before it finally sank in. She'd been kicked out of the Forsworn. Madanach had just rejected her, and she knew he was not a man who ever forgave easily. She'd lost him for good. Clinging on to Shadowmere for support, she burst into tears, sobbing into Shadowmere's black mane. The horse whinnied softly, nuzzling at her, and that was nice but it changed nothing.

In the distance, she heard someone calling her.

“Listener! Listener!”

“What -?” Liriel whispered, looking up. Cicero was running across the grass towards her, jester hat flying in the breeze as he shouldered a pack behind him and sprinted to her side. “Cicero??”

“Listener!” Cicero gasped, crashing into her and clinging on to her. “Listener, are you all right?”

“Cicero, what are you doing, it's not safe!” Liriel gasped, but she didn't want to let him go either. She'd just had her heart ripped out, it was nice to know she still had at least one friend left. “What are you – oh gods. Cicero, what did you do? You haven't killed him...”

“Does my Listener see hordes of angry Forsworn chasing after poor Cicero?” Cicero said scornfully. “No, no, Cicero killed no one. Cicero merely said goodbye to sweet Kaie and came after poor heartbroken Liriel. Cicero serves the Night Mother and her Listener, Cicero is not staying in a place the Listener can never go to again.”

Liriel felt the tears well up again as he said that, and then she was clinging on to him, sobbing her heart out into his shoulder while he patted her on the back, making little soothing noises.

“There, there, do not cry, my Listener,” Cicero soothed. “Liriel can do better than him anyway. Cicero doesn't think he's a real king at all. Where is his palace, hmm?”

“I just gave it to Thongvor Silver-Blood,” Liriel whispered. “He'll never forgive me.”

“Then it is his loss,” Cicero murmured. “Come on, Listener, let us go and find some things to stab, Cicero promises you will feel so much better after that.”

“Not everything can be solved by stabbing people, Cicero,” Liriel sighed. Cicero just raised an eyebrow, clearly doubting this. Before he could start listing all the things that could be solved by stabbing, Liriel bundled him on to Shadowmere and mounted behind him. Time to get out of here and hope Madanach's son didn't take his father's attitude.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ride to Markarth had been easy, in fact the main difficulty had been in trying to find something suitable for Cicero to wear that didn't attract attention. His jester motley was too noticeable, Shrouds not a good idea either and Forsworn gear was right out. Fortunately, some vampires made the mistake of trying to ambush them, which went well up until Cicero launched himself at one of them and blood went flying. Liriel sighed, dismounted and joined him.

As the last of the creatures died in fire, Cicero began stripping one of them, prancing about in the black and red armour the Master Vampire had been wearing.

“Look, Listener, Cicero is a mighty vampire lord, sneaking in the night and drinking _blood!_ ” he giggled. “Doesn't he look dashing?”

“Yes, you look lovely, now come on,” Liriel sighed, chivvying him back on to Shadowmere. Still, he'd been right about one thing, the fight had helped. Then she found herself wondering how the Forsworn felt about vampires and then realised she'd never be able to ask now. That just tore at her heart all over again.

Finally they made it back to Vlindrel Hall. Argis was reading quietly in the main living room. As soon as he saw her, he put it down and got to his feet, striding over.

“Liriel! Are you al-” He saw Cicero and his face fell. “Oh Sithis, you brought him here. Why in the name of – Liriel? What happened?”

Liriel couldn't cope any more, tears rolling down her cheeks as her legs gave way from sheer exhaustion. Eyes closing, she gave in to blessed unconsciousness, only vaguely aware of Cicero catching her and then someone who smelt like Madanach scooping her up and carrying her away.

~~~~~~~~~~

When she opened her eyes, it was to red hair and a vampire's armour, with a jester hat's points framing Cicero's face. He promptly stopped staring, grinned and shouted to Argis.

“Argis! Argis! Sweet Liriel is awake!”

Vlindrel Hall. Cicero. The Silver-Bloods running the Reach and Madanach gone forever. Liriel rolled over and began crying again. Footsteps and then Argis was perching gently on the bed, rubbing her back in the same way Madanach used to.

“Liriel. Liriel, it's all right, don't cry,” Argis murmured, and he even sounded a bit like his father. “Cicero told me what happened. It's all right.”

“It's not all right!” Liriel cried. “I sold the Reach to the Stormcloaks, traded it away so I could fight dragons, and Madanach hates me for it! I've lost him! I've lost him forever, oh gods, I miss him so much...” She dissolved into tears, curled up on her bed, Cicero on one side and Argis on the other, both stroking her, Argis squeezing her hand and Cicero snuggling up to her, and it felt nice, it did... but their magicka together wasn't even close to Madanach's and she wanted her Reachman.

“Madanach,” she sobbed. “Madanach, I'm sorry, please...”

“He doesn't hate you, I'm sure of it,” Argis murmured. “He loves you. He'll always love you. Could tell that when I saw you with him. Not seen him that happy in a long time.”

“He didn't look happy when I told him what I'd done,” Liriel wept. “He looked like he was going to cast at me. He just told me to get out and not come back and he... he took the torc back.” Despite her ambivalence at wearing it, Liriel had come to like looking at it while Madanach wasn't there. It had been a reminder someone cared – that she was loved. Now it was gone.

“I think he'll regret doing that,” said Argis quietly. “Probably soon. Don't worry, Liriel, I'm not leaving. When the letters and apology gifts start arriving, I'll find you.”

“Thank you,” Liriel whispered, gratified if a little confused. “You're taking this rather well, you know. Don't you want the Forsworn to have the Reach too?”

“Yeah, of course,” Argis sighed. “But we never had it before either. One Nord who hates us steps down in favour of another who hates us, so what? You had your reasons, I'm sure, and I've got my orders. Da said to protect you, so that's what I'm doing. We had a long talk at Druadach while I was there waiting for you to show up. He told me things. Lots of things he didn't want the others knowing. But he said you were important and key to getting the Reach back, and that whatever happened, you needed to be kept safe. That you needed to kill Alduin and once you had, things would become clear. I don't know exactly what that means, but I know about Alduin. Ma used to tell me stories about the World-Eater. If he's back, it's the end for us all. You've got to stop him, no matter what. Da doesn't really think much beyond the Reach, although he's a very smart man, smarter than I am. But I don't think he gets the big picture. I don't think he really understands what the Dragonborn is for. But I do.” He leaned closer, breathing into her ear. “You've got to kill Alduin, Liriel. Or there's not going to be a Reach left to free.”

Liriel nodded, knowing the world still needed her even if Madanach no longer did. “Suppose I better had, eh? That's the whole reason I arranged this truce, so the Jarl of Whiterun would let me trap a dragon in his palace. I need to find out where Alduin is so I can kill him.”

“Ooh!” Cicero squealed, sitting up and clapping his hands. “Liriel is going to kill an evil dragon! Can Cicero help?”

“Of course you can,” Liriel said, finally finding it in her to smile. Cicero had a way of cheering her up. He promptly cackled, looking quite cheerful again. She turned back to Argis, taking his hand in hers.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “You've been amazing. Why can't your father be more like you?”

Argis blushed, looking away and not answering that one. Liriel recalled he'd spent most of his life wishing he was more like his father. Must be a new one to have someone wish his father was more like him.

“I'm just doing my job, Liriel,” said Argis finally. “I'm your housecarl, I'm meant to look after you.”

“Not like this, you're not,” said Liriel, fairly certain tending to their mistress's broken heart was not in the job description. 

“You'd be surprised what housecarls end up doing,” Argis laughed. “But even if I wasn't your housecarl any more... Liriel, you've got my loyalty forever after what you did.”

“What did I do?” Liriel asked, racking her brains to think what he meant.

“Kaie was here,” said Argis, and that got Liriel's attention. Cicero had also perked up at the mention of her name. “She – she knew, Liriel. Da had told her. She was furious at first but when she'd finished shouting as to why no one had ever said, she hugged me and told me I was an idiot, but still her brother, and to stop mindlessly doing what Da told me all the time. Day after that, Nepos came to see me. Da's acknowledged me, Liriel. He's admitted I'm his son to Druadach Redoubt and he's told Keirine at Hag's End and a few other people at the various camps who he's close to. Kaie's still the heir of course, that hasn't changed, but I can call him Da again. I'm Argis ap Madanach. And I've got you to thank for it, Liriel. I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you, but you have my loyalty for life.” 

Liriel didn't even know what to say, but he was smiling and that made Liriel smile. 

“I'm so pleased for you,” she said, smiling back. “You deserve it after everything that's happened.” Sitting up, she reached out and gave him a hug. Not Madanach, no... but solid and reassuring and her friend whatever happened. It was good to know he had her back. Behind her, Cicero was bouncing on the bed and enthusing that it was true, it was, Kaie had ranted to Cicero about her father for three hours straight before deciding to go and talk to her new brother, and it had been the talk of the whole camp and Cicero had had much fun teasing Madanach about it before Madanach had lost his temper and locked Cicero in the cage with a collar and chain shackling him to the bars, and that had been even _more_ fun.

Liriel really didn't understand Cicero sometimes. All the same, at least he seemed cheerful, which was the main thing.

“So,” she said, recalling the job ahead of her. “Alduin. I need to trap a dragon in Dragonsreach. Need to find out where he went after I fought him.”

“You fought him already?” Argis asked, impressed. Cicero just rolled his eyes.

“Listener fought him and yet he lives? Sloppy, Listener, very sloppy indeed.”

“He flew away!” Liriel protested. “I had him and he escaped! Well, not twice. I'm going to find out where that portal is and then I'm going to go to Sovngarde and hunt him down and murder him!”

Cicero howled in delight at the idea. Argis however had gone very still and deathly pale, lifting his eyes to her and looking as if he'd seen his own grave.

“Sovngarde,” Argis breathed. “Alduin's in Sovngarde. Feeding on the souls of the dead.”

“Yes, it's where he went to regain his strength,” Liriel said, and then she realised the obvious. Argis might be Madanach's son, but he was also a Nord, and no Nord was indifferent to Sovngarde.

“You have to leave. Now,” Argis growled, getting to his feet, and in the candlelight he looked exactly like a Nord version of Madanach. “Get your things, get going, get to Whiterun. Now.”

“Argis?” Liriel whispered, for the first time feeling a little afraid of him. Argis was fairly calm and phlegmatic for most of the time, but Madanach was a very passionate man and at least a little of that must be hidden below the surface in Argis. “What is it? What's wrong?”

“My _mother_ is in Sovngarde,” Argis growled, and Liriel closed her eyes in realisation that this wasn't some abstract threat any more. It was real and needed dealing with. Next to her, Cicero had gasped in horror, tugging at her arm. 

“Listener, Listener, sweet Liriel, Cicero has your things right here, let us get you ready and leave, we cannot stay, not while dear Argis' sweet mother is in danger, no!” Leaving her to equip her weapons, Cicero let her go and ran to Argis, giving him a big hug, surprising Liriel and Argis both. 

“Do not fret, dear Argis, sweet Argis, Cicero and Liriel will go and save your mama,” Cicero crooned. “We will not fail you!”

Argis hesitated, then hugged Cicero back, ruffling his hair. “Get going then,” he said gruffly. “Bring him down, Liriel Dragonborn. Reach-Queen that was and will be again.”

Liriel nodded, tears in her eyes. She had a World-Eater to kill and after that... if she lived, who knew. But first, the fight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whiterun. Where it had all begun really, when Liriel had staggered into Riverwood after a harrowing escape from Helgen, and been begged to take word to the Jarl. Said Jarl had finally been persuaded to lend his palace to the fight against Alduin, and after getting that agreement, Liriel had gone home, spent one last night in Breezehome with her family (Cicero had been surprisingly well-behaved and only mentioned stabbing once, and while Lucia had been a bit shy around him, Sissel adored him), convinced Lydia that Cicero was not in fact her mysterious human lover, written a will leaving Lydia Breezehome and everything in it if she took care of the girls if Liriel never came back, and spent the night quietly praying to Anu, Sithis, Mara and Akatosh to keep her safe through this. Cicero crawled into bed alongside her, trousers staying on but snuggling alongside her regardless and dozing off in her arms. Not the same as having Madanach there, not even close, but the physical contact was nice.

Morning came, and Liriel kissed her children goodbye, hugged Lydia and went out to fight. 

There was fire. There was death – a couple of unlucky guards but still, death. Nords both, of course, and Liriel couldn't stop the thought that the dragon menace wouldn't stop when they got to Sovngarde either.

Finally the trap fell, Odahviing was caught, interrogation revealed he'd have to fly her to the portal to Sovngarde, and a deal was struck. While Odahviing was sitting on the Great Porch, waiting for her, Liriel turned to Cicero, standing patiently behind her, grin plastered all over his face at the prospect of some stabbing. He was about to be very disappointed.

“Ready when you are, Listener!” Cicero chirped. “Cicero is fully prepared to accompany sweet Liriel to Sovngarde and help her stab Alduin.”

Liriel placed a hand on his shoulder, hating to burst his bubble... but she couldn't take him into this. 

“You're not coming, Cicero,” said Liriel quietly. “I'm sorry.”

Cicero's grin didn't waver, but something shifted in his eyes. “But of course Cicero is coming! Cicero can hardly let the sweet Listener go and fight World-Eating dragons on her own, can he?”

“No!” Liriel snapped, hands on her hips. “I'm doing this alone, Cicero. You aren't coming.”

“But Listener!” Cicero cried. “You can't go alone! What if you die out there? What if you never come home? Who will hear Mother's voice then?”

“She'll choose someone else,” Liriel sighed. “Look, Cicero, you can't come and that's an order! Besides, I need you to do something for me.”

Cicero whined piteously, flinging his hands into the air, but eventually he gave in once Liriel had stared him down for a full minute. 

“What do you need, Listener?” he sighed. 

“Go back to Markarth,” said Liriel, reaching for her coin purse. She'd left most of her coin back in Breezehome, but she'd kept about five thousand septims back for this very reason. “Tell Argis it worked and I've gone to face Alduin. Tell him to send word to Madanach for me. He – he deserves to know. Tell him I love him and will do until the day I die, and that I'm sorry.”

Cicero nodded, memorising all this, and then flung his arms around Liriel, holding her tight. “Liriel mustn't die,” he gasped, tears in his eyes. “Listener needs to remember those of us who love her and need her and care about her, and come back!”

“I love you too, sweetie,” Liriel whispered to him. “Here, this is yours, all of it. When you've delivered that message, get yourself out of Skyrim, go wherever you like. You're a free man, Cicero.”

Cicero took the coin purse, staring at it in amazement. He'd likely never seen so much cash in one place before. He stashed it away before hugging her again.

“Listener... is too generous... Liriel is too kind to poor undeserving Cicero, and – and he will never forget her, never!” He let her go, jester hat in his hands and tears rolling down his cheeks as he watched Liriel mount Odahviing. As the dragon took off, heading east towards the Velothi Mountains, Liriel gave Cicero one backward glance, waving goodbye before setting her sights on the horizon. Alduin awaited.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Cicero didn't linger in Whiterun. He had a job to do, after all. Taking Shadowmere, he rode non-stop to Markarth, finally arriving in the early hours of the morning and letting himself into Vlindrel Hall with the key Liriel had given him. Argis was asleep, so Cicero collapsed into Liriel's bed for a few hours of well-deserved rest.

He didn't get anything like as many as he'd have liked. About four of them, to be precise, before he found himself being woken up by a furious Nord housecarl.

“Argis!” Cicero gasped, lapsing into inanity as a distraction tactic. “Hello! Cicero would never object to you crawling into his bed, no, not at all, but as Cicero has lain with dear Argis' lovely sister, do you not think it a little unwise?”

“Shut up,” Argis snarled, grabbing Cicero by the front of the jester shirt he'd decided to sleep in. “What are you doing here? Where's Liriel? Why aren't you with her?”

“She – she's on her way to Sovngarde,” Cicero gasped. “She told me to stay behind. She has a message! A very important message for the King in Rags that she wanted me to give to you, yes!”

“Yeah?” Argis asked, only slightly mollified. “Give it to him yourself. You're coming with me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Cicero hadn't been given a lot of time to argue. Argis had changed into his ebony gear, given Cicero precisely ten minutes to get dressed and gather his own things, grabbed weapons and food for the road and hauled him out to the stables, taking Shadowmere and riding hard for Druadach Redoubt.

Which is how Cicero found himself standing nervously in front of the King in Rags, who was glaring down at him. The guards on duty had raised eyebrows at seeing Cicero, but one look at Argis and they'd waved him on through. All through the camp they'd had this reaction, surprised looks for Cicero and quite a few for Argis as well. He'd not been back since Madanach had finally admitted who he was. Which was why Madanach looked up from sharpening his axe at the camp's grindstone and got to his feet, actually looking a little nervous to see Argis sweeping towards him in gleaming black armour. Nerves changed abruptly to annoyance on seeing who he'd brought with him. 

“Why's he here?” Madanach asked wearily as Argis flung Cicero at Madanach's feet. “He made his choice when he ran off after the Dragonborn and broke my daughter's heart.”

“I was not heartbroken!” Kaie shouted from the upper level. “We were just having a little fun together, it was nothing more than that!”

Cicero winced on hearing that. Maybe she was hiding her feelings, maybe not. All the same, he'd grown fond of her and being rejected hurt.

“Sir-” Argis stopped, remembering everyone knew now, no point hiding it. “Father,” he said, catching his breath as he faced Madanach. Madanach actually shivered as he said it. 

“Son,” said Madanach quietly, only smiling a little but the affection very clear if you knew what to look for. “What brings you here, and with the Keeper?”

“He said he had a message,” Argis said, nudging Cicero with his foot. Cicero had slowly climbed to his feet, dusting himself off. “From – from Liriel. And it had better not involve attempted murder or he won't be leaving here alive.”

“Cicero isn't here to stab anyone!” Cicero cried, hastily adopting the Forsworn peace gesture. “Cicero's knife is sheathed! Cicero wasn't going to come at all, but Argis made him!”

Madanach had narrowed his eyes, Liriel's name still very much a sore point, and if anyone other than his son had said it, he'd have raged at them and possibly sent lightning magic at them. As it was, Argis wouldn't bother him unless it was important. 

“Out with it then,” Madanach finally said. “It had better be good.”

“It is short, it is short!” Cicero cried, hoping Madanach didn't actually incinerate him for this. “Only that Liriel's dragon trap plan worked and now Liriel has flown off to Alduin's stronghold at Skuldafn on the back of a very handsome red dragon, to go to Sovngarde from there and confront him at last. And – and she was worried she might not come back, and wrote a will and gave Cicero money and told him to tell you all this then leave the country. She said – she said to say she loves you and always will until the day she dies and she's sorry!”

Madanach hadn't even moved throughout all this, just staring at Cicero. For a few seconds after Cicero had finished, he didn't react at all.

“She's gone,” he finally said. “To – to Sovngarde? On a dragon's back? Argis, is this true?”

Argis nodded. “It was what she was planning, yeah. I'm amazed it worked, but you know her.”

“Too well,” Madanach whispered, looking haunted. He turned away, running fingers through his hair. “Why has a dragon who can supposedly eat the world gone to Sovngarde anyway? It's the afterlife for Nord war dead.”

“Liriel fought him here in Tamriel and weakened him,” Argis told him, amazed how calm he sounded. He certainly didn't feel it. “The only way he can recover is by going to Sovngarde and feeding on the souls of the dead there.” He just about managed not to sob. One of the few things that had helped him deal with his mother's death was knowing Shor had her safe in Sovngarde, but if that wasn't so, if Alduin got her... 

Madanach nodded, glancing up at him. Madanach's eyes met his own, and then Argis saw understanding appear there.

“You're worried about your mother, aren't you.”

Argis didn't trust himself to answer so he just nodded, staring at the floor. No response and then Madanach was there, pulling him into an embrace. 

“It's all right, son,” Madanach murmured. “There must be countless newly arrived war dead there, and we've sent a few there ourselves. Plenty of others for Alduin to go after. She's not going to risk herself unnecessarily, the Inga I knew was always cautious.”

“Not the night she died, she wasn't,” Argis whispered, remembering his mother arming up and racing out to fight when the battle reached their home. 

“Mabion,” Madanach whispered. “She was protecting you. You're not in Sovngarde... not yet and by the grace of Anu won't be for a long time to come.” He stepped back, letting Argis go. “Argis, there's two little girls in Whiterun also worrying about their mother. With the Dragonborn gone, their only protection is one housecarl and she can't be everywhere. They're easy targets. You swore to protect Liriel and everything she owns with your life, yes?”

Argis nodded, not sure where this was going. Madanach smiled a little at that.

“Good. Then do this for me. Get to Whiterun, pose as a Nord sellsword or a pilgrim to that tree they've got there, anything you like, and keep an eye on the place. Specifically, watch Breezehome and Liriel's two daughters, Sissel and Lucia their names are. Make sure nothing happens to them.”

“Sure,” said Argis, confused. “But why? I thought you and she...” _Were over._ But Madanach forgot nothing, and it took a long time for his feelings towards anyone to die, be it hate or love.

“Because it'd break her heart if anything happened to them,” said Madanach softly. “Maybe she sold the Reach out, but her girls don't deserve to die. Go on, go. You'll blend in far better than anyone else I've got at my disposal.”

“Sir- I mean, Da,” Argis said, allowing himself a smile. Assuming Liriel got back unharmed, there was hope for her and Madanach yet. He turned to leave, and Cicero got up to follow him out. Cicero hadn't actually been dismissed but message delivered, he'd got no intention of hanging around for Madanach to lash out at.

“Keeper, wait.” Cicero stopped. Too late, it seemed. Slowly he turned to face the King in Rags.

“Sir?” he asked, licking his lips nervously. “Did you need anything else?”

“Where are you going next?” Madanach asked. “You know the Brotherhood will kill you if they find you, you're going to be on the run for the rest of your life. Liriel isn't here, and you can't go with Argis.”

“Cicero hadn't really thought about it,” said Cicero, scratching his head. “High Rock maybe. Or Hammerfell. Maybe back to Cyrodiil when things are safer there. Why does Madanach ask?”

“Stay here,” said Madanach quietly. “You're a good warrior, and we're a match for the Brotherhood. Of course you went after Liriel. She's your Listener and you're a Dark Brother, you had no choice, I know. But she's not here, and you might as well stay somewhere you'll get news of her return. When she returns, she'll go straight to Whiterun to check on her children. Argis will find her and he'll send word. Well? Want to join the Forsworn again?”

Cicero had given no thought whatsoever to what he'd do after delivering the message, but now the offer was made, there was not a doubt in his mind. 

“Cicero would love to!” he squealed. “King Madanach is very kind to offer.”

“Don't make me regret it,” Madanach growled, retreating to the upper level. As he left, Kaie made her way down, glaring at Cicero, arms folded.

“Don't think you can come crawling back into my bed like you never left it,” she snapped at him. Cicero hung his head. She'd looked really upset when he'd left. He'd grabbed his things, kissed her, told her he was sorry and just ran. She'd been too stunned to react. Now came the reckoning.

“No, Kaie,” he said quietly. “Cicero doesn't presume. It is up to you.”

Kaie's glare softened as he spoke, and when she replied, it was in tones far warmer than he'd expected. 

“Come on. Let's get you a tent set up, if you're staying. Can't have the Night Mother's Keeper sleeping on the cold ground, can we?”

Cicero finally met her eyes and saw a smile there, his heart skipping at the sight. It seemed he was forgiven, at least a little. He wasn't sure if he was in love with Kaie or not, but he was fond of her. It was nice to be back among friends.

He just hoped Liriel would be forgiven as easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mabion = Reach dialect for 'my son', based on a mix of Welsh and Sindarin Elvish (given the Aldmeri influences on the Reach natives, bringing in Elvish elements to their dialect would make sense).
> 
> The plot is definitely thickening from here on in. Next chapter involves Astrid finally deciding to make her move and things coming to a head as Liriel returns to find killing Alduin was just the start.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liriel's killed Alduin, but the unholy mess awaiting her will take all her skills to solve. Fortunately, Madanach's feelings for anyone take years to die, and when the Dragonborn is otherwise engaged, the Forsworn are more than up to the challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked writing this chapter. I really really did! There's a couple of violent deaths, but they're not too graphic and one will have you cheering.

Argis had ridden back to Markarth after leaving the camp, leaving Shadowmere at Markarth stables and taking Liriel's horse, a brown mare that was far less noticeable than the Dark Brotherhood's steed. He'd also packed his ebony gear away, exchanging it for simple housecarl steel. Nothing to see here, just a Nord mercenary out on a journey, certainly nothing to do with the Dragonborn, no. 

He'd had no trouble – he'd outridden a few beasts and a lone thief, and he'd seen a dragon circling in the distance but other than that, nothing. Finally, he'd ridden into Whiterun, exhausted. He'd got a few hours sleep at Markarth, but other than that, it had been two days of hard riding. Good thing Nords could take a bit of discomfort really. Even half-Nords like him. 

No one batted an eyelid as he strolled into Whiterun, just another Nord visiting the city. Passing for one of them, although he'd never felt like one, not since they'd brought him to Druadach and Madanach had claimed him for the Forsworn. Not that he'd ever entirely fitted in there, his Nord blood killing any ability with magic and making him tower over everyone there. 

It didn't matter. He was still Argis ap Madanach, and that counted for a lot. Maybe he'd not inherited his father's magic, but he did have his father's weaponskills – and a resistance to magic. He couldn't cast worth a damn, but he could power through a barrage of magic that would have lesser mortals writhing in agony. Something to be thankful for. Not the only thing he'd inherited from his father either. Argis' personality tended towards the quiet and calm, like his level-headed mother, but when he had to, he was more than capable of turning on the charm. Just like his charismatic warlord father. Which is why he stopped to chat with Adrianne Avenicci and soon had her eating out of his hand.

“So they tell me the famous Dragonborn lives here,” said Argis casually. “What's she like? I heard she can shout a dragon out of the sky and make the weather do what it's told.”

“I don't know about that, but she's a very powerful mage,” Adrianne replied, sounding impressed. “We had a vampire attack here last month – she was just leaving Breezehome when the fiends turned up. Blasted one off its feet with fireballs, and shocked its thrall to death then raised the corpse. Terrifying to watch but very impressive. A lovely person when she's not doing that though – she stops by to use our forge all the time. Not at all how you'd expect an Altmer to be. Down to earth, you know? Doesn't act like she's some sort of Elven princess.”

“A rare sight indeed,” Argis laughed. “Honestly, I don't know what to find more incredible, the stories of the Thu'um or an Altmer who doesn't treat the rest of us like dirt. She in the city at the moment? I'm feeling the urge to see if that's really true. Also if she's as pretty as they claim. They say she's single.”

“She's stunning,” Adrianne told him. “But she's never shown the slightest bit of romantic interest in anyone, man, woman or mer. She's devoted to her children – adopted of course. I think you may be out of luck. That's if she was actually in the city. You'll never believe this, but she trapped a dragon in Dragonsreach and flew off on it! That was two days ago. No one's seen her since. Her little girls are so proud, but they miss her too. Especially little Lucia. You want Dragonborn stories, talk to her, she memorises all of them. She's usually playing by the Gildergreen with her sister, but I've not seen her today. Hope she's not ill...”

Argis hoped not too, it made it harder to keep an eye on them if they never went outside. He knew which house Breezehome was though – Liriel had told him it was the one next to Warmaiden's. Maybe he should call on his Whiterun counterpart, Lydia, see if she needed help or had noticed anything odd lately.

The first sign of trouble was the open door – barely noticeable, but ajar and unlocked and if no one had seen the girls all day... Argis drew his sword, pushing the door open.

The house was quiet, seemingly in good order, but there were a few things lying on the floor and that was wrong, Liriel was a neat freak to the core, she wouldn't leave things lying around. Then Argis saw the blood dripping down the stairs, pooling on the stone floor as it fell through the cracks in the ceiling.

“No,” Argis breathed. Madanach had been right to fear for the kids, it seemed. The blood proved to belong to a dead Nord, in steel armour like his own, dark haired, pretty – when she'd been alive anyway. She'd been cut down on the top landing, clearly on her way to intercept the intruders that had killed her.

Argis backed away. Nothing he could do for her now. He retreated downstairs to check the room under the stairs. It proved to be the children's bedroom, and while the bedding was all over the place and some rather nice Elven daggers were abandoned on the floor, lying in a blood spatter that seemed to indicate someone had got a blow in, there was no sign of either child. Someone had broken into Liriel's house, killed her housecarl and taken her children. Why? This was no robbery gone wrong. This was a calculated strike at the Dragonborn. Question was, who was behind it? Stormcloaks maybe? Didn't seem like their style though, and Argis doubted they'd have the skills to pull this off. Thalmor? Perhaps, but abducting children was a bit much even for them.

There was a note lying on the table. Argis picked it up, read and promptly swore viciously.

_“Stormcloak bitch,_

_For giving our country to the Bear, we have taken your children in recompense. If you wish them to live, come alone to the usual place. Your life for theirs, whore of Ulfric._

_Don't even think of asking your Brothers and Sisters in black for help either. We are a match for them._

_In the name of Madanach, King in Rags”_

When he found whoever did this, Argis would make it so their own mothers wouldn't recognise them. Taking her children and then attempting to frame the Forsworn? Who hated her that much, and who gained from setting her and the Forsworn at each other's throats? Argis had no idea, but he knew what he did need to do. Madanach needed to know and fast.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Three days. Three days since she'd flown to Skuldafn. Three days since carving through the Draugr and dealing with dragons. Since coming to Sovngarde. It wasn't at all like she'd expected. Beautiful and peaceful and not at all like she'd expected an afterlife for Nord warriors to look. Well, peaceful if it weren't for Alduin anyway.

She'd killed Alduin on the steps of Shor's Hall and watched as he'd died in a blaze of black and orange, Tsun and the Tongues of old singing her praises as a hero. Gratifying but there was only one Nord she wanted to see while she was here.

Liriel finally found her in a quiet corner of the Hall, dressed simply in fur armour, simple steel sword at her side and hunting bow at her back, sitting at a table on her own with a tankard of mead in her hand.

“Inga Fair-Shot?” Liriel asked. Inga looked up, startled and went scarlet to see the Dragonborn herself there in her black and red armour.

“Oh! Er, yes, yes, that's me, but are you sure it's me you want, ma'am? There must be a hundred heroes in here. I'm just a simple hunter. I'd be out in the woods right now if Alduin weren't abroad. But if you're here...”

“I killed Alduin, you can get back out there whenever you like,” said Liriel gently, taking the chair opposite. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right. Argis was worried about you.”

Inga's face lit up at the mention of his name. “Argis! You know him? You know my boy? Except he must be a man now, mustn't he? How old is he? Is he married? Children? Is he... is he a good man? Did he ever find out...?”

“Thirty five and single,” Liriel told her. “And yes, yes he did. Madanach's people got him out of Markarth and to one of the camps. He's Madanach's acknowledged son and a Forsworn agent... and my housecarl. And he's a good man. You'd be proud of him.”

Inga had placed a hand to her mouth, tears in her eyes. “Forsworn agent... by the Nine. I didn't... I wanted to keep him away from all that! Damn Madanach!”

“Argis made his own choices in the end,” said Liriel quietly, still feeling protective of Madanach despite everything. “Don't blame Madanach for all of it. He took good care of your son after you died, and Argis adores him.”

“If it hadn't been for Madanach, I might not have died in the first place,” Inga replied, scowling. “All the same... he's a good man even if he does care more about the Reach than he does about the people that live in it.”

Liriel considered arguing the point then decided it wasn't entirely unfair commentary.

“He grieved when you died, you know,” Liriel said softly. “I think he may have loved you.”

Inga looked away, closing her eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “He could never say it in life, and I'll never see him in death to hear it, I know that. Tell the stubborn son of a bitch I'll never forget him and I hope he's happy.” She glanced up, something occurring to her. “Is he happy? I take it he's no nearer to getting his throne back.”

“He was happy,” Liriel whispered. “Then I traded his country to the Stormcloaks to come here and broke his heart.” 

She looked away, feeling her throat close and everything go blurry as tears started to fall. Then strong Nord arms were around her and Inga was holding her tight. 

“You're his lover, aren't you? Oh sweetheart, I should have guessed. Of course he wanted you, you're beautiful and dangerous and the bloody Dragonborn, he couldn't have resisted you. Oh honey, don't cry, please, he'll come back to you. You just killed Alduin the World-Eater!”

“He doesn't care about that!” Liriel sobbed. “He didn't even know who Alduin was until I told him!”

“More fool him,” Inga soothed. “You are a hero, Dragonborn. They will sing your praises all over Skyrim for this, and when Madanach hears it, he will regret sending you away. Maybe he already does.”

“He won't change his mind,” Liriel whispered. “Not unless I get him his throne back and I've got no idea how.”

Inga didn't speak for a moment, but when she did, it was with absolute certitude in her voice.

“You are a doom-driven hero, a walking legend, blessed by Akatosh himself. You have slain the Great Wyrm, and to do it you had to find and read an Elder Scroll and call a truce in a bitter war. If anyone can help the Forsworn, it is you, Liriel Dragonborn.”

Liriel didn't for the life of her see how, but she was glad someone had faith in her. Resting her head on Inga's shoulder, she let herself be comforted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It was some time later when Liriel finally said goodbye to Inga and left for home. She was no Nord and only a hero on a technicality. Maybe she'd saved the world, but saviour wasn't who she was. Mage, warrior, murderer, thief. Mother. Lover (except not any more, oh gods, Madanach, please). Friend and ally. All those, maybe. But hero? Hardly. Sovngarde was no place for a Listener.

So here she was, heading for the door. With Alduin gone, there was a steady influx of new arrivals who'd been hiding out in the mists and only now were finding their way in. Liriel stood on the steps, watching them make their way across the whalebone bridge. War dead in Stormcloak or Legion uniforms, mostly. But there was one in steel armour, a dark haired woman, who looked familiar. She looked calm, if sad, as she stepped off the bridge, but that changed when she saw Liriel.

“Lydia,” Liriel breathed. “How – by the Eight, _Lydia!_ ” She sprinted forward to where Lydia was standing, hands to her mouth, tears rolling down her cheeks and glowing like they all did in Sovngarde – a soul, not a body any more. 

“Liriel,” Lydia gasped. “My Thane, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I couldn't stop them, I'm sorry!”

“Stop who?” Liriel cried as Lydia ran into her arms, shaking all over. “Lydia, what happened, who did this, oh gods, if you're here, _where are my children??_ ” Her babies, her little girls, Lydia would never have let anything happen to them, she'd have died to protect them. She clearly had done.

“I don't know,” Lydia whispered. “But they came in the night, broke in somehow, crept into the house. They took the girls, I tried to stop them, but there was a mage and a big Nord warrior – they were too strong! My Thane, I failed you, I'm so sorry...”

“Who were they?” Liriel whispered, fighting to breathe. “Who took my babies??”

“I didn't see their faces,” Lydia said, guilt still radiating off her. “But I knew the armour.” She let go of Liriel, tracing a finger along Liriel's arm, looking shrewdly at Liriel's ancient Shrouded Armour. “They were dressed the same way you are.”

Liriel felt the panic fade away, a sense of deep calm settling over her, a sense of calm akin to that felt before a storm broke or before a major battle. A sense of calm Liriel usually only felt when getting ready to fight. 

_Astrid took my babies. Sisterhood be damned. I will kill the bitch for this._

“Thank you,” Liriel whispered, clasping her ex-housecarl by the shoulders. “Thank you for telling me. Thank you for protecting my girls. I will never forget you.”

“You're not angry?” Lydia breathed, relief flickering in her eyes.

“Yes,” said Liriel, amazed at how calm she was actually feeling. “Oh Akatosh, yes. But not at you. I will find them and I will see you avenged, Lydia, I swear it.”

Lydia did smile at that, a fierce grin of delight. “Go, my Thane. Go get your children, Dragonborn. Show the sons of bitches what an angry dragon looks like!”

Liriel hugged Lydia farewell, grieved at this final goodbye, but knowing Lydia would be all right here. She had two little girls to rescue, and then... then it was time to teach Astrid the error of her ways.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Argis raced into Druadach Redoubt, note clutched in his fist. Still weird being here and getting the stares now – even weirder when the sentries on duty saluted and called him sir. Argis really didn't think of himself as a sir. Argis was just a soldier at the end of the day. Except he'd had the bad luck to have been fathered by the leader of the Forsworn and now they all knew it. It was a little disconcerting, to put it mildly.

Said Forsworn father was on the top level, reading a letter and having an in-depth conversation with Odvan.

“And it was definitely one of them you saw meeting with him?” Madanach pressed, glancing up from the letter. Since the High Hrothgar Accord, Madanach's intelligence-gathering efforts had focused on Solitude, in an attempt to get word on just how long the Empire planned to let the Silver-Blood occupation continue. 

“That's right,” Odvan confirmed. “She was wearing the armour and everything. Blonde Nord, nice voice, very pretty. Er. If you like that sort of thing. Which I don't, obviously,” said Odvan hastily. “True-born Reachwomen for me all the way, sir.”

Madanach actually smiled at that. “Can't really judge you on that one any more, lad. But if that woman was who I think it was, you're best off avoiding her. Did you hear any of the conversation?”

“No, but when she left, Maro went inside and wrote this. Addressed to the Emperor himself. What do you think, sir? Worth knowing?”

“Very,” Madanach murmured, looking concerned. “I can't say I'm surprised at her treachery, but that she'd go that far... Odvan, I need you to get back to Dragon Bridge Overlook. I'll give you some orders to take with you, but the gist of it is I want eyes on that south road at all times. Any army wagons seen moving over the Dragon Bridge, I want them intercepted and destroyed. I'll have a second ambush put in near Lost Valley Redoubt, and you'll have help from Broken Tower too. Then you're going to go incognito to Solitude. I'm going to need you to alert our eyes in that city – Argis, I distinctly recall sending you to Whiterun with an important mission of protection, why in the name of Sithis are you here?”

“I was too late,” said Argis grimly. “Someone else had got there first, killed her housecarl, taken her kids. They left this.” He handed the note to Madanach, who'd stared in horror as Argis had spoken. His expression turned from horror to rage as he read the note.

“I gave _no such order!_ ” he roared. “Treacherous, backstabbing... what is she playing at??”

“Who?” Argis asked. It was almost as if Madanach knew who'd taken them. 

Madanach raised both letters. “Astrid,” he said tersely. “First she goes to the leader of the Penitus Oculatus saying she can deliver his son's murderer to him, now she takes Liriel's children hostage and tries to pin it on me. And writes in the letter for Liriel not to even think about turning to the Brotherhood for help, thereby cleverly ensuring that's the first thing she'll think of doing, were she to believe such an obvious forgery, of course.”

“So what do we do?” Argis asked, wondering if Madanach even planned to do anything – well, of course he did, he clearly wasn't ordering the Forsworn to stake out the road between Dragon Bridge and Lost Valley for no reason. “We don't even know where their Sanctuary is, and even if we could find it, going in all spells blazing is a great way to get the hostages killed.” That was right, keep this professional, think of them as hostages, not two frightened little girls who might even already be dead (but no, Astrid hadn't left bodies, she wanted a hold over Liriel, she'd keep the girls alive).

Madanach glanced beyond Argis, and Argis turned to follow his gaze to where Cicero had just pranced in, a brace of dead rabbits in his hands and babbling that they'd eat well tonight.

“One of us knows where it is,” Madanach said, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “And as for the hostage retrieval, I find this sort of negotiation always goes better when you have something the other side actually wants...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Back in Tamriel, and Liriel had raced back to Whiterun to have her worst fears confirmed – her house broken into, her children missing, her housecarl murdered, and the guards very interested in speaking to a Nord warrior in his thirties with light brown hair and one eye blind who'd apparently found the door ajar, gone in and come rushing out again, fleeing the city. 

Argis. He'd been here, presumably to keep an eye on Breezehome, although she'd not asked him to. Which begged the question, had he turned up on a whim or had someone else asked him to come here? Had Madanach had a change of heart?

She didn't know and didn't want to take the risk of looking like a fool when the answer turned out to be no. But she'd left for the Reach anyway. She needed help and there weren't many she could trust with her Dark Brotherhood links. 

Argis hadn't been at Vlindrel – concerning but strengthening the possibility of Madanach taking an interest. No sign of Cicero either – not that she expected to ever lay eyes on him again, but part of her had hoped to find him here. Fortunately, neither man had been her reason for coming here.

“Wake up,” Liriel gasped, shaking Eola's shoulder. 

“Wha- gerroff, Ma,” Eola snapped, brushing Liriel away as she turned over in her bedroll, positioned in the corner of the main chamber at Reachcliff Cave. “I'm not marrying him, don't care how nice he is.”

“Eola!” Liriel cried. “I need your help, wake up!”

Eola's eyes flicked open and she looked up at Liriel, confused. “Wha- oh, hey! Liriel, sweetie, how've you been? They said at Old Hroldan inn you'd last been seen flying away on a big red dragon.”

Trust everyone to fixate on the damn dragons.

“Yes, I did, and yes, I killed Alduin the World-Eater, but that's not important!” Liriel cried. “Eola, Madanach broke up with me for giving the Reach to the Stormcloaks. And now Astrid of the Dark Brotherhood has taken my kids and killed my housecarl!”

“You split up?” Eola gasped. “Oh honey, I'm so sorry. And... wait. Astrid of the Dark Brotherhood. Your boss... has taken your kids. Why?”

“My boss is the Night Mother, and Astrid can't accept that,” said Liriel, fingering Dawnbreaker. “So she's trying to mess with my head. By _taking my children!_ ”

“You're not going to stand for that, I trust,” Eola purred, crawling out of bed and reaching for the Shrouded Armour Liriel had given her. “Need a hand retrieving them?”

“Yes,” said Liriel, relieved beyond the telling of it that Eola was good for pretty much anything, no matter how nefarious. “Yes, please, I'm sorry but you're the only one I can trust...”

“Say no more,” said Eola as she pulled on her Shrouded gear. “Let's go hunt some assassins.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Quiet at Falkreath Sanctuary. Too quiet. Liriel glanced about, having the strange sensation of being watched. Eola padded behind, face hidden behind Shrouded Cowl, also looking uneasy.

“Think she's expecting us?” Liriel murmured.

“Eventually, yes,” Eola whispered back. “But here, now? I don't know. I think she'll be expecting you to come alone.”

Only a fool came without back-up. Liriel looked about, wishing she could hear more wildlife around. There'd been some bird calls, a bit of scurrying, but otherwise very little. Like the forest was holding its breath. 

Liriel let out her own and made her way to the Black Door, whispering the passphrase and beckoning Eola to follow her. They both crept inside.

Astrid wasn't at her usual desk, and no sign of Arnbjorn either. There were however voices coming from the main hallway. Voices she recognised and one she'd never have thought to hear in this place.

“That's a most intriguing offer, Madanach, but what makes you think I have any interest in taking it up?” Astrid purred. “And why are you interested in Liriel's children anyway? I heard she'd given your country to the Stormcloaks. That must have stung.”

“Igmund and Thongvor have both made themselves my enemy over the years,” Madanach replied. “Jarls come and Jarls go, doesn't bother me which one I kill. But the Dragonborn – she's a once in a lifetime prize. Whoever has her children has her. Maybe I can't trust her loyalty to my cause, but I can certainly ensure her future good behaviour, don't you think?”

Liriel crept closer, Eola at her back, and judging from the little gasp as she'd heard Madanach's voice, she'd not expected him either. 

Madanach was standing near the forge, Kaie on one side, Borkul on the other, Argis off to the right in his ebony gear, and a whole group of Forsworn soldiers at his back. Astrid was watching from the steps, the Dark Brotherhood surrounding her, all eyeing the Forsworn warily. The atmosphere was tense, to put it mildly. 

“Good reasoning,” Astrid nodded, approving. “But it seems to be based entirely on Liriel remaining alive and free. The woman's planning to take over this Sanctuary, she's disobeyed a direct order, the proof of which you just brought me, what makes you think I want anything other than her execution?”

“Then why take the children at all?” Madanach asked. “Why not just wait until she returns?”

“Because I didn't have proof of her treachery before,” Astrid laughed. “Now we've all seen it.”

“FILTHY SLANDERER!” Cicero howled. He was kneeling at Kaie's feet, heavy iron collar around his neck and the chain in Kaie's hands. His own hands were in his lap, cuffs around the wrists. “THIEF OF THE LISTENER'S CHILDREN! YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR CRIMES, HARLOT!”

“What did you just call my wife?” Arnbjorn growled, hefting his warhammer. Astrid smiled and placed a hand to his arm.

“Patience, husband, we'll have him at our mercy soon enough. Once his Forsworn friends hand him over. Which they will.”

“When we have Liriel's children,” said Madanach calmly. “The children for Cicero. We get leverage over Liriel, which we'll use to make sure she steers clear of you, and you get to exact justice on the gibbering lunatic. I get Liriel, you get unfettered rule of your Sanctuary, everyone's happy.”

“CICERO ISN'T HAPPY!” Cicero shouted. “CICERO WILL MURDER YOU ALL WHEN HE GETS LOOSE!”

“Shut up!” Kaie snapped, yanking on the chain. “Gods, why we didn't cut your tongue out when we had the chance, I'll never know.”

“Kaie was not objecting to Cicero's tongue earlier- ow!” Cicero yelped as Kaie hit him with a shock spell. Liriel placed a hand to her mouth. Madanach was involved all right – trying to use her brother to persuade Astrid to hand over her children so he could use them against her somehow.

Her heart broke at the mere thought, but she kept listening. Time to see how this was going to play out. 

“And how can I trust you to keep your word, hmm?” Astrid asked. “How do I know you won't turn on me as soon as you have the children? You clearly know how to get in here any time you please.”

An excellent question. Liriel wondered how Madanach planned to answer it. He really didn't have any reason to keep Astrid alive, after all, and so far, the offer he'd made was weighted heavily in his favour. 

“Astrid, I'm hurt,” Madanach murmured. “I'm personally wounded by the insinuation I might not be a man of my word. And after I've already been so kind as to save your Sanctuary from imminent destruction.”

Imminent... what? Liriel looked at Eola, who was clearly as confused as she was. What was he talking about?

“Refraining from attacking us yourself is not saving our Sanctuary,” Astrid said tersely. “What else have you got?”

Madanach held out a hand to Argis, who took out an official looking letter and passed it over to him.

“It so happens your last bargain didn't turn out too well either, Astrid,” said Madanach, sounding rather too cheerful for a man presently on the losing side of negotiations. “Apparently Commander Maro is even less forgiving and benevolent than I am, and decided why wait to entrap one murderer when he could descend on you all. He ordered his men here to destroy you. You're just fortunate the road from Dragon Bridge to Falkreath has half a dozen Forsworn encampments within easy reach of it. You're safe for now. But he will be back when he realises the first attack didn't work, and next time my Forsworn won't be lying in wait. Unless of course we'd had prior good relations and some sign of good faith from you that might make us change our minds...”

Astrid had gone pale, staring at Madanach in horror, and the rest of the Brotherhood didn't look too good either.

“What's he talking about, Astrid? What bargain?” Babette asked, confused.

“Astrid, do you mean to tell me you made some sort of deal with Commander Maro?” Festus demanded. “Were you trying to entrap one of us?”

“Oh, you didn't share your plans?” Madanach asked innocently. “Never mind, I've got the proof right here, Imperial seal and everything.” He held the letter out, and it was Veezara who took it off him, reading it and hissing in fury.

“Veezara, what is it?” Gabriella asked, taking the letter and swearing in Dunmeri at its contents. Babette was next, then Festus and Nazir, all appalled by what they read there.

“Our Emperor contract!” Festus cried. “Only the biggest job we've had in centuries, and you spilled the beans to Maro??”

“Think of the gold! The glory! You threw it away, why!” Veezara had turned on Astrid, enraged, and the others were doing likewise. Only Arnbjorn still stayed by her side, and even he looked confused.

“Now, now wait, I can explain!” Astrid cried, raising her hands as she backed away. “This whole job, it's ridiculous, a set up from the start, Liriel's leading us on, there's no real contract!”

“Motierre seemed pretty genuine to me!” Nazir snapped. “And his amulet certainly was! What in the Void have you done, Astrid?”

Liriel placed a hand to her mouth, not sure whether to be appalled or impressed. Madanach had just completely destroyed all Astrid's credibility in one stroke, leaving Falkreath Sanctuary as hers for the taking if she had a mind to. She watched as he turned to Kaie, grinning.

“I think, m'inyeen, you can let them have their Keeper back now.”

Kaie promptly let go of the chains, heavy links falling to the floor, even bigger smirk on her own face. 

“Oops,” she said sweetly. “How careless of me.”

Cicero reached out, snatched his ebony dagger from Kaie's belt, sprang to his feet and virtually flew across the Sanctuary to finish what he'd started.

“DIE PRETENDER, DIE!!!!”

Before anyone could stop him, Cicero had reached Astrid and plunged his dagger into her chest, blood fountaining everywhere as he carved into her with the skill of a born murderer. Finally, Astrid's blood-soaked remains sank to the floor and Cicero skipped back to Kaie, chains jingling, blood all over him, dagger in his hand and looking utterly jubilant. Behind her, Liriel heard Eola actually whimper. Trust Eola to find that arousing.

“Did I do well, did I, did I?” Cicero cooed, prancing about in front of Kaie. 

“You were marvellous, sweetie,” Kaie purred. “I'd hug you if you weren't covered in blood.”

“I don't mind blood,” Eola breathed softly, eyes locked to Cicero, as were everyone else's. Which is why no one saw Arnbjorn change into beast form until it was too late. The beast howled and leapt across the cave, claws raised and lashing out – not at Cicero, but at Madanach, who didn't get his armour cast and spells raised in time. 

Claws tore at the Reach-King, and he went down in a spray of blood. Spells were already flaring at Arnbjorn and Eola had howled and broken cover, lightning blasting the werewolf back, but there were too many Forsworn in the way and Madanach was lying bleeding. Liriel had a feeling she could heal him but she'd never get there in time. Time...

“TIID KLO UL!” Everything slowed down, the entire cavern turning to look, eyes widening at one cowled assassin blasting magic back at Arnbjorn, while another darted through the crowds, apparently unaffected by time slowing down – or from their point of view, moving with terrifying speed. Liriel ripped her cowl off and fell to her knees next to Madanach. He was still alive, face screwed up in pain as he had a hand to his chest wounds, trying to stem the blood, trying vainly to cast, but his Restoration magic failing as his health did. 

He looked up into her eyes, mouthing her name with the last of his strength.

“Don't you dare die on me, you stupid, stubborn, son of a bitch,” Liriel hissed, her own magic firing as Heal Other flowed from her fingers. Madanach's eyes never left her as she worked, pain fading as skin closed and hope dawned in his face. The Shout had worn off and everything was back to full speed again, and then Madanach was slowly sitting up, wincing but all right, he was going to live, and now he was casting a few healing spells of his own, sitting there in silence as the healing magic flowed round him. Liriel finally looked up, seeing everyone staring at her, Dark Brotherhood and Forsworn alike, Eola still cowled and standing over Arnbjorn's corpse while Cicero capered around her, cooing that he didn't know her, she wasn't part of Falkreath, was she new, she was clearly very talented.

“Da!” Kaie raced to Madanach's side, and Argis was there on Madanach's other side, both offering healing potions and helping him up. Liriel did likewise, not sure what to say to him. He'd just given her Falkreath Sanctuary, stitched up Astrid for her, all without any prompting from her, and he'd done it to save her children, he must have done. 

“Are you all right, oh gods, you nearly died!” Kaie was sobbing, clinging on to her father, and Argis had his arms around them both, not saying anything.

“I'm fine,” said Madanach softly. He was still watching Liriel, looking more nervous than she'd ever seen him. “Thanks to the Dragon-Queen turning up when she did.”

“What were you even doing here?” Liriel whispered. “How did you even...?”

“Sent Argis to keep an eye on Whiterun while you were off dragon-slaying,” said Madanach gruffly, not meeting her eyes. “He didn't get there in time to save them, but he did bring the news to me after finding the note they left trying to frame us for it. Thought it wouldn't be a good idea to leave the Dragon-Queen's children in hostile hands, then my eyes in Solitude saw Astrid meeting with Maro.”

“What was she even planning?” Liriel asked, confused. “She hadn't really told Maro about our contract, had she?”

“It's true,” and that was Babette, standing behind her, orange eyes angrier than Liriel had ever seen them. “Read for yourself.” She passed the letter over. Liriel read it, feeling her heart start to pound.

_“Eminence,_

_Your fears are justified – there is a plot and the Brotherhood were indeed behind it. One of their number, the woman called Astrid, just met with me and explained the whole scheme – my son, it turns out, is an innocent man, framed to make me look weak. I always knew he was innocent of course, but it is good to have this confirmed._

_My son's killer is apparently coming to assassinate you and posing as the Gourmet to do it – I didn't ask what had happened to the real Gourmet, I can only speculate it wasn't pleasant. Rest assured this plot will not succeed._

_Also rest assured that the Dark Brotherhood will not be allowed to carry on their murderous ways either. I have the location and passphrase for their Sanctuary, I'll have men on the way shortly to clear them out for good._

_For the glory of the Empire!_

_Commander Tiberius Maro”_

Liriel could barely breathe. Treacherous, backstabbing bitch... a contract against the _Emperor_ and Astrid had screwed the whole thing up because of her own paranoia. Liriel was tempted to raise her corpse and kill her again but it wouldn't do any good.

“Listener?” Cicero skipped up to her side, snuggling her, worried eyes staring up at her. “Listener, we have killed the pretender Astrid for you, and Cicero just cast Detect Life – there are two signals off to the back of the Sanctuary. Would you like Cicero to go and get them for you?”

“Yes – no!” Liriel cried, realising Cicero was still covered in Astrid's blood and a singing, blood-covered jester was only going to scare two already scared children even more. “Wait here, I'll go.” Before anyone could say another word, Liriel was casting Detect Life herself, chasing through Falkreath Sanctuary after the red silhouettes in the distance.

They were penned up in the Night Mother's chapel – the door was locked, but Liriel hadn't spent all that time training with Vex for nothing. A minute later and the door was open. Sissel and Lucia were sitting huddled against the wall, tearstains on their cheeks, pale, frightened but alive, alive and healthy, gloriously alive.

“MAMA!” Lucia cried, nudging her sister awake. Sissel's eyes opened and she sat up, barely able to believe her mother had arrived. Liriel couldn't even speak. She ran over to them, sweeping them into her arms, holding them tight, kissing first one then the other, only able to listen as Sissel burst into tears, saying how the scary people in black had killed Lydia while Lucia held her and kept whispering she knew she'd save them, she knew it.

“You found them,” Liriel heard Eola say as she padded silently into the room, cowl off now no one was about. “Thank Namira. How are they both?”

Sissel perked up as she heard Eola's voice. “Eola!” she squealed, remembering her from when she'd stayed at Breezehome before heading off with Liriel to read the Elder Scroll. Eola had kept both girls entertained with stories and magic lessons and declared afterwards they were adorable.

“Hey sweetie,” Eola laughed, cuddling Sissel as she detached herself from Liriel. “Good to see you again, we were worried. Your ma was beside herself.”

Sissel looked over at Liriel, clearly wondering what sort of magic could make Liriel be in two places at once. 

“Means I was very upset,” said Liriel gently. “But I found you, so it's all right and we can all go home.” Except Lydia was gone and after seeing the bloodstains, Liriel didn't think Breezehome could ever be home again. Just left Vlindrel Hall, and Liriel wasn't sure how Argis would feel about childcare.

Coincidentally, the man himself chose that moment to put in an appearance.

“Liriel? Did you find them?” He stopped on seeing Eola, frowning at her. “Hey, who are you? You're a Reach girl, aren't you?”

“What's it to you?” Eola hissed, grabbing her cowl. “Yeah, I'm a Reachwoman, so what? Got a problem, Nord-boy?”

“Half-Nord,” said Argis quickly. “I didn't mean – you just remind me of someone, that's all. Got a name?”

“Argis, Eola's a friend, you can trust her,” Liriel began, only for Argis' eyebrows to rise up and Eola to glare at her.

“Eola, is it? Well, there's a few Eolas in the Reach, I suppose,” said Argis, now very curious. “Eola ap what? You got family?”

“None I care to speak of to you,” Eola snapped. “So you can turn right around and forget you saw me, Argis Half-Nordic.”

“Eola!” Liriel cried, wondering what on earth had got into the girl. “Argis is my housecarl. Could you possibly be a little polite? Listen, Argis, you can't tell anyone in the Forsworn who Eola is. She ran away and doesn't want them to find her. She's scared of what they'll do to a deserter.”

Argis looked at Eola for a long moment, clearly considering something. Finally, he nodded.

“She with you, Liriel? She's wearing Shrouds, if she's a Dark Sister, no Forsworn will touch her. It's a holy calling, serving Sithis.”

“Yes,” said Liriel, taking Eola's hand, not even thinking twice. “Yes, she's with me. She's under my protection.”

“Then Da will hear nothing about her from me,” Argis promised. “Did you want me to take the kids back to Vlindrel? I can travel with the Forsworn most of the way.”

Liriel nodded and tossed Argis some money, enough to get the alchemy lab replaced with a proper bedroom.

“Could you? Get the steward to fit a children's room for them, and just keep them there until I can come myself. Girls, this is Argis, my other housecarl. He's going to take you to my other house in Markarth. You should be safe there.”

“Come on kids, let's go,” said Argis cheerfully, beckoning the girls over. Liriel patted Lucia and sent her after Sissel, who'd already gone to Argis' side. Liriel waved as Argis led her girls away. She was fairly certain the Forsworn protection wouldn't stop at Markarth's city gates either.

“Did you mean it?” Eola asked softly. “Did you really just invite me to join the Dark Brotherhood?”

“Yes. I mean, yes, if you want to still,” said Liriel quietly. “I'm not even sure if I'm a member any more after all this. But I'm still Listener and I've got the Night Mother, her Keeper and the old Sanctuary at Dawnstar, and now I've got you. We'll get others too, rebuild. That's if you want to?”

“Want to??” Eola laughed. “Sure I want to! Count me right in!” Eola flung her arms around Liriel, hugging her and Liriel couldn't help but smile. What the other five downstairs did was their business, but the Brotherhood was hers now and she had a recruit loyal to her, not Astrid's memory. It was a start.

That was when the Night Mother spoke.

_“Listener!”_

“Mother?” Liriel whispered. Eola was also looking about, trying to hear but without success.

“The Hag of Hags is here?” Eola breathed, eyes falling on the coffin, impressed. Liriel hushed her, listening intently.

_“Listener... you are fortunate in your choice of allies. The Son of Sithis is a worthy friend. Well done on finding him.”_

That had to mean Madanach. “I'm not sure we're actually still friends any more, but I think he just saved this place,” said Liriel, wondering what Madanach felt for her. He'd definitely seemed grateful to her for healing him.

_“Oh hush, child, he is still yours, have no doubt of that. Three hours of his sister shouting at him was enough to make him have doubts about his actions, and you and he have unfinished business. You can trust him. If he offers assistance, take it.”_

Good to know. Maybe they'd never be lovers again, but she could live with them being friends. Even if seeing him did make her want to cry.

_“Go, Liriel. You have work to do. This Sanctuary is compromised and the Brotherhood needs a leader. They will look to you, and we have a contract to fulfil. Find Motierre – he's in the Bannered Mare in Whiterun. He can tell you where the target is. Then finish the job. Astrid's treachery will not stop the Hand of Sithis.”_

“Hail Sithis,” Liriel whispered, getting to her feet. Was the Night Mother right? Could she still do this job, kill the Emperor? She didn't know, but if the Night Mother said it was still possible, she'd give it her best shot.

If the Night Mother said Madanach was trustworthy still, she'd be willing to believe that too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cicero would like it to be known that that was the single most satisfying kill I've ever had him do. :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the confrontation at Falkreath, Liriel has a Brotherhood to settle down, a new recruit to induct, and a rejected jester to reassure and cheer up. The challenge of re-organising the Brotherhood is nothing, however, to the challenge of facing Madanach again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less action packed, this one - it is mostly clearing up the mess from that one, getting Liriel and Madanach talking again and setting up the end-game. Warnings for angstiness.

Liriel emerged into the hallway to see the Forsworn had gone – Kaie was the last one there, taking the collar and chains off Cicero and giving him a hug. He didn't look happy.

“You're a Dark Brother, you belong here, not with us,” Kaie was saying quietly. “Come on, it wasn't going to last forever, you know that.”

Cicero sniffled a bit, rubbing at his eyes. 

“Cicero will miss you,” he whispered. “Cicero was lonely here before, he will be lonely again. You were nice to poor Cicero!”

“You're a very sweet guy,” said Kaie gently. “But you don't need us to look after you any more. I mean, you can come and visit if you want, but I know Liriel will need you here. You don't owe me anything.”

Cicero didn't say anything, just sweeping her into a cuddle and clinging on to her. Finally, he let her go, nodding tearfully. Kaie patted his shoulder, looking a bit regretful, but it didn't stop her walking away. Cicero watched her go in silence, before turning and running back to Liriel, cuddling her. Liriel held him, not really sure what to do but feeling sad for him nonetheless. He'd been so happy at Druadach Redoubt – but Kaie was right, he belonged with the Brotherhood.

“I'm sorry, Cicero,” Liriel whispered. “I know you liked her.”

“She was kind to me,” Cicero said quietly. “I'll miss her.” 

The rest of the Brotherhood was still sitting around, collectively looking a bit lost. Veezara and Nazir were talking quietly, Gabriella was sitting on the steps with her arms around Babette, and Festus was hanging around by the Word Wall, clearly itching to get back to his experiments but unsure if perhaps he was needed still.

“Hey,” said Liriel awkwardly. She wasn't sure if they were still her comrades or not, but no one had tried to kill her so that was something. 

Conversation fell silent as all five of them looked up, expressions a mixture of guilt and hope. It was Nazir who broke the silence.

“Liriel,” he said guiltily. “We didn't know – none of us knew Astrid had sold out the Emperor job like that. We're sorry.”

“But you knew she was taking my children,” Liriel said, finding that a little hard to forgive. “Gods, some of you at least were in on the abduction.”

“I was,” said Gabriella quietly. “Also Babette and Arnbjorn. I think it was Arnbjorn who killed your housecarl. We didn't hurt the kids, I swear, although they're both handy with knives, and we weren't prepared for Sissel knowing Destruction magic. You taught them well.”

“We're sorry, Liriel,” said Babette, not meeting Liriel's eyes. “We won't go after them again, any of us. Or you. Or Cicero. We'll leave you alone.”

“Don't see we have a lot of options,” Festus snorted. “Our Sanctuary's compromised, our leader's dead, our big contract is dead in the water. Looks like it's the end for the Brotherhood.”

“It's only the end if we give up,” Liriel found herself saying, finding the words coming easily to her lips. “The Night Mother is our leader, not Astrid. As long as there's a Night Mother and a Listener to hear her, we have a Dark Brotherhood. She spoke to me. She said there's still a chance of fulfilling the contract, but I need to find the client again and speak to him. In the mean time, this place is compromised, you're right – but it's not the only Sanctuary in Skyrim.” She hugged Cicero and beckoned to Eola, who had ventured in with her cowl off now the Forsworn were gone.

“Everyone, this is Eola. She's a trusted friend of mine and I just recruited her,” said Liriel, holding out her other hand to the young Breton. Eola stepped forward, running a hand through her hair and nodding at the others.

“Where'd she get Shrouds from?” Veezara asked suspiciously. 

“From me,” Liriel answered. “Those are my old set, tailored to fit her. The ones I'm wearing are ones I acquired later. Now, she, Cicero and I will be taking the Night Mother to Dawnstar Sanctuary along with anything usable from here that doesn't belong to any of you. What you do is your own business, but you can't stay here. If you'd rather go your own way, I won't stop you – but you're all capable assassins and you served Astrid well. If you still want to be Dark Brotherhood and are willing to take your orders from me and the Night Mother – you'll be welcome at Dawnstar.”

Silence as all five of them weighed this in their minds. Then, to Liriel's surprise, Babette got up and stepped forward, holding out a hand to her.

“I'll go with you, Listener.”

Now that was unexpected. Babette had always maintained her loyalties lay firmly with Astrid these days – but Astrid was gone and Liriel guessed a vampire didn't waste time mourning someone who'd turned out to be a traitor herself. Liriel took her hand and smiled.

Then Nazir stepped forward, not exactly smiling but definitely respectful. 

“And me. I've still got some contracts need carrying out, you'll need work to be getting on with. I'd hate to disappoint our customers.”

“Thank you,” Liriel said, relieved. Nazir was the one who actually kept track of most of the contracts, his experience would be invaluable. Then Veezara was there, teeth bared in a grin.

“I've been part of the Brotherhood since the day I hatched, I'm not leaving now,” he growled. “I thought Astrid was a deserving leader, but I was wrong.”

“As were we all,” said Gabriella softly, getting to her feet. “I'd be honoured to join you, Listener.”

That just left Festus. He rolled his eyes, tutting, then shrugged.

“Well, if you're all going, I suppose I should join you. You'll need someone with some sense along. Sithis knows what'll happen if I leave you on your own.”

Liriel couldn't quite believe how easy that had been. They'd all just fallen into line like that, even after she'd given them a chance to leave. It was still possible they were up to something – but given their reactions to Astrid's treachery, it was more likely they were still adrift and desperate to cling to someone offering something familiar. So be it then. She'd have to see about getting a few more recruits at some point, but she still had enough for a functioning Sanctuary. All was far from lost.

“All right then, we have a functioning Brotherhood and a job to do,” Liriel announced. “We still got the cart and horse Cicero brought the Night Mother here on?”

This proved to be the case. 

“Wonderful. In that case, get the Night Mother packed up and anything else we might need. Dawnstar's pretty run down, bring everything that can be moved – weapons, the alchemy lab, the enchanter, ingredients, food, utensils, everything. Get it all shipped up to Dawnstar – Cicero knows the passphrase. I'm hoping you'll only need to do one trip.”

“You're not coming?” Cicero whispered, eyes wide and looking nervous at the thought of being left alone with the Falkreath assassins.

“No, I've got to try and salvage our Emperor contract,” said Liriel, feeling a little unnerved at the responsibility for this being on her shoulders. But if the Night Mother thought it could be done... “But don't worry, Eola's new and she'll look after you, won't you Eola?”

Eola moved to face Cicero full on, looking him up and down with what could only be described as a smirk. 

“Oh yeah. Absolutely. I'll take care of Cutie ap Cutieson here, don't worry.”

_Cutie ap Cutieson??_ Liriel mouthed the words in confusion while Cicero darted behind her, whimpering and peeking out at Eola in terror. Eola pouted at him, doing her best to look soothing and not doing a very good job of it.

“It's all right, honey, I won't hurt you!” Eola said gently. “You're a predator too, aren't you? Other predators don't taste as nice as prey, don't worry.”

Cicero squeaked but did slowly peep out from behind Liriel, blinking at Eola.

“Eola,” said Liriel pointedly, glaring at her. “Be _nice._ He is your brother now. As are the others.”

“I'm always nice!” Eola protested. She winked at Cicero and turned to Nazir. “You'd be second in command, I take it.”

“It's never been officially set in stone, but I handle a lot of the smaller business Astrid could never be bothered with, and I've got care of the ledger with it all in,” said Nazir, looking a little uncomfortable under Eola's gaze. “Why, did you want the job?”

“Just wanting to know where everybody stands,” Eola purred, which wasn't a denial to Liriel's ears. She would definitely have to aggressively recruit sufficient people to get Eola a Sanctuary of her own, she could see this. Perhaps even turn Reachcliff Cave into a Sanctuary, amalgamate the Coven of Namira with the Brotherhood. Could work.

“You were using magic earlier,” said Gabriella, looking Eola over rather shrewdly. “And you look like a Breton. You didn't meet Liriel in the Forsworn, did you? Is that why you defended Madanach like you did?”

Eola's eyes flickered for the briefest instant before she laughed. “Bless you, no, I've not been a Forsworn for years. I had differences of opinion with the camp Matriarch and left. Fortunately, Liriel's a lot more understanding. Well spotted though.”

“Oh, it's easy to spot when you know what to look for,” Gabriella laughed, taking Eola's arm in hers. “You practically reek of death and dark magic. I think you'll fit in just fine around here. Come on, let's show you around for what it's worth. We've got a lot to do.”

Cicero meanwhile had shuffled over to Veezara, looking at his feet. He didn't say anything at first then blurted it all out at once.

“Cicero is sorry for stabbing you!” Cicero cried. “Cicero was going for Astrid, not you. Cicero won't stab anyone else, he promises!”

Veezara growled softly then sighed, relenting. “Much as it pains me to admit it, you had the right of it, Keeper. Just don't do it again.”

“Cicero won't, he won't!” Cicero cooed. “Cicero shall tend to Mother and serve the Listener and do whatever he's told! Humble Cicero lives to serve!”

“Oh I bet you do,” Eola purred over her shoulder. Cicero's eyes widened and his face flushed pink. 

“Cicero needs to tend to Mother!” Cicero managed to get out before promptly fleeing for the Night Mother's chapel. There was a brief moment of silence before the entire room dissolved into laughter.

“Cicero needs to tend to Mother!” Babette squeaked in a horribly accurate imitation of Cicero's voice. “Oh bless him, that's adorable!”

“I think you have an admirer, sister,” Veezara managed to get out in between gasps of laughter.

“But he ran away,” Eola whispered, looking a little forlorn. 

“Never mind, Eola,” Gabriella said cheerfully, patting Eola's hand. “I think you just spooked him. You just have to be patient and lure him in slowly and carefully.”

“No luring!” Liriel snapped, feeling someone ought to stand up for Cicero here. Honestly, he'd just split with Kaie, he didn't need to be hunted down and molested by a predatory cannibal. “Eola, Cicero is lonely and vulnerable and just split up with someone. He doesn't need anyone new right now.”

“Yes, Ma,” Eola sighed, rolling her eyes. “I promise not to rape Cicero. Don't you have a client to hit up for info?”

Liriel did, and much as she didn't like leaving Cicero here, she could hardly take him with her. She just hoped he'd be all right. He didn't have the best history with the others and he seemed terrified of Eola. Not an unusual reaction, of course – but Eola hadn't actually been trying to scare him and Cicero wasn't the fearful type.

Still, at least he was unlikely to stab anyone this time, and he did have somewhere to go. He could always go to Druadach Redoubt if he needed to. 

In the mean time, she had a Sanctuary to organise, and then it was time to hit the road.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Some time later, and Liriel was ready to leave. Cicero had been found and reassured and told if he really couldn't cope with having the others around, he was to leave and rejoin Madanach, which had made him smile a little, and by the time Liriel had finished going through Astrid's things and retrieving various important documents, not to mention her Blade of Woe, he seemed a lot happier. He was still a little nervous around Eola, but she was making a concerted effort to be nice to him and he wasn't running away or hiding whenever she looked at him any more. It would have to do.

Saying her goodbyes, Liriel made her way out. It was with some surprise that she saw two figures still sitting by the lake, one Orc in heavy armour and a Reachman in Forsworn gear. Madanach and Borkul, and probably other Forsworn concealed in the trees. Madanach glanced up and hastily got to his feet, looking awkward.

“Liriel,” he said, and the sight of the King in Rags looking nervous wasn't something you saw every day.

“Madanach,” Liriel said, folding her arms and doing her best to hide her own nerves. Just because he'd seen her naked and vulnerable and in the throes of pleasure did not mean she was going to go to pieces in front of him. “What do you want? Not that I'm not grateful for your help, but you don't need to be here now. Argis has the kids, the Sanctuary's mine now. You can go home.”

“I could,” said Madanach. “But I wanted to talk to you.”

“What about?” Liriel asked, shrugging. The indifference was feigned, of course it was, everything in her was screaming inside, wanting to jump on him and pin him to the floor and... she couldn't decide whether she wanted to scream abuse and hit him, or just fuck him. Maybe both.

She'd do neither. She still had her pride and he didn't need to know the effect he still had on her.

He was staring at the ground, looking most uncomfortable. The bastard could at least look her in the eye, dammit!

“You've really got a contract against the Emperor?” Madanach said finally. Of all the questions...

“Yes,” said Liriel tersely. “And that had better not go any further.”

“No, no, it won't,” Madanach said quickly. “I'm not going to stop you or anything, far from it. I just... just wanted to know who'd ordered it. I mean, they'll need serious funds for that, and they must either have a daedra of a grudge or be sufficiently high-placed to personally benefit.”

“This is hardly any business of yours!” Liriel snapped, beginning to feel a little irked. Of all the things they needed to have a long talk about, and he wanted to know about the Dark Brotherhood's professional secrets?? “This conversation is over. I'm leaving.” She tried to push past him.

“Liriel, wait!” he cried, this time meeting her eyes, and she'd seen him look many things but never terrified before. “Please, hear me out, I'm begging you, it's important, please.” He'd moved to grab her shoulders, eyes staring wildly into her own.

“Let go of me,” she hissed at him. “After what you said – you threw me out of your camp, took my torc back and said I was no friend of the Forsworn, and now you want my help? You have some nerve, Madanach!”

“Liriel, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it,” Madanach gasped. “Look, hear me out! I'm not asking you to take me back, I just... Liriel, I rescued your children, got rid of Astrid for you, doesn't that count for anything?”

“It doesn't work like that!” Liriel shouted, pushing him away. “You can't break up with me, then swoop in like some sort of hero and expect me to just fall into your arms!”

“I don't!” Madanach cried. “Liriel, do you know what cost us the Reach last time?”

“The Silver-Bloods and the Jarl hiring the Stormcloaks, I know,” Liriel sighed. “You told me enough times.”

“Yes, but...” Madanach sighed, running fingers through his hair. “I mean, of course, but the only reason they were able to do that was because we weren't a legitimate government. We'd taken over Imperial territory while the Legion was busy elsewhere. The Stormcloaks could oust us with impunity because they were claiming territory back for the Empire.”

“Madanach, is this going somewhere?” Liriel said wearily. “I really do have business to take care of.”

“It's relevant, I promise you,” Madanach assured her. “We weren't a legitimate government but we were trying to be! We'd sent representatives to Cyrodiil and everything. But in the aftermath of the war, they had other priorities. We got tangled up in red tape and ignored, and in the interim, Ulfric and friends made their move. By the time the Empire got round to the Reach, order had been restored and it was back in Nord hands. It wasn't the Stormcloaks that did for us, Liriel. It was Imperial bureaucracy.”

“That's very sad, but what do you expect me to do about it?” said Liriel, puzzled. “I'm not a politician, Madanach!”

“No, but you do know people,” said Madanach, and that was more like it, that calculating gaze was back. “You apparently know where to find someone high-ranked enough to want to kill the Emperor and be able to afford it, and you have a certain amount of leverage over them due to knowing they're paying you to murder the Emperor. So tell me who it is, Liriel. Because I want to meet them. I've got a few requests of my own to put to them.”

“Oh no,” Liriel breathed, about ready to lose it in a second. “Absolutely not, you are staying well out of this! This has nothing to do with the Forsworn!”

“It's got everything to do with the Forsworn!” Madanach growled. “This could be our one chance to get our land back! The Emperor dies, the Empire's in chaos, the Elder Council panic and order the Legions home, Skyrim's lost to the Stormcloaks... and we take advantage. We're not even rebelling against the Empire because since the High Hrothgar Accord, the Reach is no longer part of the Empire. We take it over and this time, in Cyrodiil's eyes, we're the damn heroes for weakening the Stormcloak rebels. All I need is the chance to meet with someone high up, get an agreement in advance, make sure that this time, they don't leave us hanging for months. Liriel, please.”

Liriel was about ready to melt his face off by this point. “You had the nerve to jilt me for my part in the High Hrothgar Accord and now you want to use it to fuel your own bid for power,” she said quietly, dangerously, and Madanach flinched back.

“Liriel... I'm sorry,” Madanach said softly. “I was wrong to treat you like that. I was angry, I spoke rashly and without thinking. I've been thinking and regretting it non-stop ever since. It's not just politics, I miss you, Dragon-Queen. I'm not asking you to take me back, but please believe me, I'm sorry. Why do you think I intervened when Astrid took your daughters? I wanted to make it up to you.”

“Do not bring my girls into this,” Liriel whispered. “Yes, you saved them, but don't think I couldn't have got them out of there myself.”

“At what cost, cariad?” Madanach asked, and Liriel clenched her fists, repressing the urge to slap him.

“Don't call me that,” Liriel gasped, closing her eyes and fighting the tears that were threatening to fall, and if he called her that again, she really would lose it.

“I'm sorry,” Madanach said quietly, backing away. “I didn't – look, I know I hurt you and there is not a part of me that doesn't regret that or want to change that, put things back to how they were. I don't know if that's possible and I don't expect you to forgive me in a hurry. But this isn't just you or me, Liriel. This is an entire country's future on the line. Liriel, if the Forsworn cause ever meant a thing to you, if you really cared about us and weren't just pretending in order to get into my bed -”

“I was not trying to get into your bed!” Liriel shouted, feeling herself going crimson, and she could swear she heard someone in the undergrowth snickering.

“Then you'll help?” Madanach asked hopefully, and that was a smile, she could tell. Smug son of a bitch, he had her and he knew it.

“Fine,” Liriel sighed. “I will help you. But do not think I have forgiven you or am taking you back. This is about helping your people, not you.”

“Understood,” Madanach murmured, but his eyes were gleaming and had he been a man habitually given to capering around, Liriel was sure he would have done. 

“And you're going to have to come with me now if you want to meet him,” Liriel continued. “Alone – there's only room for one on Shadowmere. He's in Whiterun and I need to get there now before he goes back to Cyrodiil.”

Madanach paused, glanced back at Borkul who'd been studiously pretending not to hear any of this.

“Agreed,” he nodded. 

“And you're not going to be able to walk into Whiterun dressed like that either,” Liriel continued, indicating his Forsworn armour. “You're going to need to look a little less conspicuous.”

“Fine, if you can find me something unassuming to wear, I will wear it,” Madanach sighed. “As long as it's not Shrouded Armour or Cicero's jester outfit.”

“He'd never part with the motley,” Liriel laughed. _But he might be persuaded to part with something else..._

So it was that Madanach emerged from Astrid's former room, adjusting the fit of the vampire armour that Liriel had talked Cicero into parting with. Cicero had sulked a bit, but on being told it was for Madanach had changed his tune immediately – in fact, he'd smirked knowingly and handed it over, cooing that the dear, ruthless, terrifying Reach-King was quite welcome to borrow it and Cicero quite understood Liriel's need to see said Reach-King in that armour, he was sure it would suit him very nicely, very nicely indeed. Liriel had taken it off him and snapped that it wasn't like that, she just needed a disguise for him. Cicero had just kept on smirking, and Liriel was half-tempted to find Eola and tell her she'd changed her mind, do all the luring she wanted. But Eola had slipped away as soon as she'd heard Madanach had re-entered the Sanctuary, and it probably wasn't a good idea to dig her out.

As it was, she'd handed over the armour, left Madanach to get changed, and now he'd re-emerged, adjusting the belt a little and finding it actually fitted quite well. Too well. In fact, it suited him and Liriel suddenly found it difficult to breathe. 

“Taken off a dead vampire, you say,” Madanach said, tugging at a sleeve.

“Needed a disguise for Cicero,” Liriel managed to get out, and while Cicero had managed to still look like a capering idiot jester even with the motley away and wearing that, Madanach contrived to look like a dangerous creature of the night without even trying. This was bad, this was extremely bad and she had five hours on a horse with this man. She was sure he wouldn't exactly molest her, but he was also dangerous, determined and as cunning as he was manipulative. He was very good at reading people, and it wasn't that she didn't trust him – she didn't trust herself not to end up bent over a hard surface begging for him to fuck her. 

“I dread to think what he looked like in it,” Madanach laughed, brushing it down. “Does it suit me?”

Mara help her. The one question she wished he'd not asked.

“You look fine,” she said quickly. “Let's go.”

Madanach's mouth quirked in a smile, and Liriel realised with dawning horror he knew exactly how she thought he looked in it. He didn't say anything, just followed her out and watched as she mounted Shadowmere, before getting on behind her, with a leg up from Borkul. She was pleased to note his confidence faded once he was on the horse and it occurred to her he'd probably not ridden in years – possibly not ever.

“Not a horseman, I take it?” she grinned.

“Not exactly,” he said, sounding very uncertain and she knew she was right.

“Best hold on tight then,” she said sweetly. “Because Shadowmere's fast.”

Madanach hesitated, before rather reluctantly sliding his arms around her.

“You alright there, boss?” Borkul called up, smirking under his war paint. 

“Fine,” Madanach said through gritted teeth. “Just get home and tell them something cropped up but I'll be there when I can. And tell Kaie not to fuss, I'm a grown man.”

“I'll do that, but she'll ignore me,” Borkul replied, still grinning. “Good luck, boss. Don't fall off.”

Madanach nodded, and then Liriel tugged the reins and spurred Shadowmere into movement, taking off down the road for Whiterun. She heard Madanach groan “oh gods” and felt him cling on tighter as the countryside flew past, and got a perverse sense of satisfaction out of knowing he was suffering for once. There was a certain justice in having him off his game because of her for a change. Spurring Shadowmere on faster, Liriel rode off into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A brief stop just outside Riverwood for Liriel to get changed out of her Shrouds and into her Archmage gear – didn't pay to wander around too openly in the stuff – and for Madanach to get his feet back on solid ground, kneeling gratefully by the river and casting healing spells.

“Not a fan of horses?” Liriel teased as she emerged. Madanach just shuddered.

“Not the way you ride them,” Madanach muttered. “Was it strictly necessary to go quite that fast?”

“Time is of the essence, Madanach,” Liriel said innocently. “This is your country on the line, don't forget.”

“Old gods forgive me, if I'd known winning the fight would involve hours on the back of a daedric steed travelling at speeds no man was meant to know, at the mercy of a cackling Elven madwoman, I'd have stayed in Cidhna Mine,” Madanach growled, glaring at her. Liriel bit her lip, unable to stop smiling. Almost back to normal. She'd missed him – missed this, just the being around him and feeling comfortable around him, feeling happy. She didn't even care about the sex, she just missed having him around.

“I was not cackling,” she told him. Madanach kept right on glaring as he got to his feet.

“Smirking then, which is actually worse – don't deny it, you're doing it right now!”

“Sorry,” Liriel giggled. Madanach had his hands on his hips, staring her down and trying to look intimidating. For someone who normally managed this without even trying, it really wasn't working on Liriel. 

“Don't lie to me, you are not remotely sorry, in fact I'm beginning to think you actually enjoy watching an old man suffer.”

“You're not that old!” Liriel pointed out, laughing over her shoulder as she went to tend to Shadowmere. 

“Enjoying it. I knew it,” Madanach purred, and Liriel turned to find him right there, one arm resting on Shadowmere while he tilted his head, smiling at her, and Liriel couldn't breathe, he was right there, close enough to touch and by Mara, she wanted him. 

“Liriel?” Madanach asked, smile fading as he reached out to touch her arm. Liriel gasped and backed away, staring at the ground, tears in her eyes as her heart broke all over again.

“We need to go,” she said, her voice rough and ragged, and mercifully he didn't argue or push anything. She mounted Shadowmere again, pulled him on behind her, and they were off, not quite so fast this time, but Madanach still held her tight, and Liriel could only look straight ahead and try not to remember happier times.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was rising by the time they finally arrived in Whiterun. Liriel stabled Shadowmere while Madanach looked uneasily about him. He'd never visited the city before and certainly it had been a long time since he'd been able to walk around freely in one. His armour was getting a few looks but mostly admiring ones, or just surprise at seeing someone nearly sixty still dressed like a warrior. No one was trying to arrest him or attack him though, and the Nord stablehands were barely giving him a second glance.

“Right, that's Shadowmere sorted,” Liriel said, returning to where Madanach was waiting. “I've got a house in the city, we can rest there for a bit. Madanach? Are you alright?”

“This is so strange,” Madanach murmured. “A guard just walked past, told me Destruction magic was fine, just not to go burning down any buildings, and then walked off.”

“Yeah, I get that all the time,” said Liriel, rubbing his back. “Come on, let's get you inside.”

“They have no idea who I am,” Madanach said, still sounding a little dazed. “I'm just some old warrior-mage, travelling with the Dragonborn.”

“I bring a lot of strange people here, they don't even bother paying attention any more,” Liriel laughed. Madanach didn't answer, just following after Liriel, wondering how on earth he could be here in the heart of Skyrim and no one recognised him, no one had realised, no one knew he'd been the scourge of the Nords for longer than many of these guards had been alive. Instead, they just greeted Liriel and waved them both on through.

_They just let the leader of the Forsworn into their city._ Madanach could barely believe how he was getting away with this. He'd never be able to do this in Markarth, and that was saddening – but he was here, in a city, out in the open, and it was a beautiful city, nice wooden buildings and wide open streets, water flowing through open channels and clean water at that. There was an inn on one side and the blacksmith's on the other, with an Imperial woman tending to the forge who cried out on seeing Liriel.

“Liriel! Did you find them? Did you catch up with that one-eyed Nord?” she cried. One-eyed Nord – Argis? Must be, and Madanach didn't like the woman's tone.

“Yes, we found them,” Liriel said, pushing back her Archmage hood and greeting the woman with a smile. “That Nord had nothing to do with it by the way, he was my other housecarl, here to check on things while I was gone. Thank Mara he did, I don't think we'd have got them back if he'd not got here when he did and raised the alarm.”

“Is that so?” the blacksmith asked, finally relaxing. “That's good to know. Are you bringing them back here? Don't blame you if not after what happened – Whiterun was always such a safe city and now this!”

“I don't think it's likely to happen again,” Liriel assured her. “I found the ones behind it, they won't be causing any more trouble. Argis took the kids to my house in Markarth, they'll be safe there.”

“To Markarth?” the smith gasped, looking horrified, and Madanach felt rather insulted at that. “Aren't you worried about the Forsworn? I heard their agents randomly murder people in the streets if they don't like the look of them!”

_It was never random,_ Madanach thought grimly. Thonar Silver-Blood's enemies mostly, having to murder his own people, Forsworn in truth as he was forced to pillage and murder the land and people he should be protecting. Maybe not for much longer if this worked.

“I'm not afraid of the Forsworn,” said Liriel, drawing herself up to her full height, pride and confidence all over her face and looking like a queen in truth. By Sithis, she was beautiful. Madanach had mourned and missed her since sending her away – despite Kaie constantly fussing over him, he'd never felt so lonely. Cidhna Mine hadn't seemed as depressing as life without Liriel, and the bone-deep knowing he'd never replace her, however long he lived. At least she was speaking to him again, still willing to help despite the way he'd treated her. More than he deserved.

The conversation done, Liriel was leading him away. He guessed there'd be a lot more of this to deal with – someone like her probably had some fancy mansion up on the hill, near the Jarl's palace. So it was with some surprise that he saw her stopping outside the small cottage next door, taking a deep breath and unlocking the door. 

“This is yours?” Madanach asked, surprised. “I'd thought it would be... bigger.”

“I'm very sorry if my accommodations aren't entirely to your liking,” Liriel sniffed as she stalked in. “Alas the golden bed lined with swan feathers, Khajiit fur and adorned with the skulls of my enemies is in my other house.”

He definitely deserved that and damn, he loved this woman. He'd always liked women who weren't afraid to talk back to him, and Liriel had always been that. _Cariad, come back to me, I'm sorry..._

Liriel had walked in and come to a halt at the foot of the stairs, standing very still, hand to her mouth. The house didn't look in disarray or anything despite having been a murder scene, but Madanach could smell fresh paint, and those stairs and the floorboards upstairs looked new. He closed the door and went over to her, placing hands on her shoulders without even thinking.

“Liriel. Are you alright?”

“This is where it happened,” Liriel whispered. “Lydia's bedroom is up there on the left, she heard a noise, grabbed her sword and went to investigate and they just – they just killed her! They broke into my house, Astrid took my key while I was sleeping at the Sanctuary and got it copied, they took my babies and killed Lydia, and she was my friend! Argis found the body here, there was so much blood, the steward's people must have replaced all the woodwork here. Now it doesn't look any different but I can't – I can't stop...” Liriel broke down in tears, crying helplessly, and Madanach finally abandoned all attempt at trying to pretend he'd never loved her.

“Cariad,” he breathed as he turned her around and pulled her into his arms, letting her sob on his shoulder. “Oh cariad, it's all right, they're safe, you're safe, I'm here, it's all right.”

“It's not all right!” Liriel sobbed. “I loved this city, I loved this house, it was the perfect place to raise my children, they loved Lydia and she loved them! Now she's gone and this city will never feel safe again! This house was home and now...” She started crying again, sobbing her heart out on his shoulder. Poor thing. Madanach felt his heart go out to her. He'd never really been able to get attached to too many places, he'd certainly never felt safe anywhere. But he did know what it was like to have a family... and then not any more. He remembered walking into Druadach Redoubt after escaping, and being hit by memories of last time he'd been there, being dragged away while the blood and bodies of his comrades littered the place and his daughter, oh gods, Eithne... To remember all that and yet see the place again and have it just be a functioning Forsworn camp – it had not been easy. He'd retreated to his tent and just sat with Kaie for a bit, of all of them the only one who really understood.

It broke his heart to see Liriel going through the same thing. 

“Have you even slept since you got back here?” Madanach murmured in her ear. Liriel shook her head, still tearful. No, he thought not, and he could do with a rest himself. 

“Come on, bed,” he said, keeping his voice low and gentle. “You need to sleep before your body gives out completely.”

“Don't go anywhere,” Liriel whispered, clinging on to him. “Please don't go.”

“I won't,” Madanach promised as he led her upstairs. “I won't leave you. I swear it.” 

Her bedroom was the big one on the right, the bed far simpler than he'd imagined but comfortable enough. He helped her get her outer robes off, but he hesitated over the final layers. Last thing she needed right now was him groping her and if she got naked, he'd have a hard time not doing so. Fortunately, she just lay down on the bed, reaching for the furs. He draped them over her and tucked her in before removing his boots and lying next to her, furs separating them, but not stopping him spooning in behind her, arm around her waist as he'd done so often before.

“Thank you,” Liriel whispered. “For... for everything. For rescuing my kids. Oh gods, if Argis hadn't found out and told you... why was he here anyway?”

“I sent him after hearing you'd gone off to fight Alduin,” he admitted. “Didn't like the idea of your girls being on their own.”

Liriel turned around, surprised. “Why?” she whispered.

“Why do you think?” Madanach asked, reaching out to stroke her face and honestly he was this close to kissing her, just throwing caution to the winds and letting his body take over. 

“I gave your country to the Stormcloaks!” Liriel cried, a tear rolling down her cheek and Madanach wiped it away with his thumb.

“Then we will take it back,” he told her. “Together.”

Liriel closed her eyes and started crying again, nestling into his arms like she'd never been away, howling into his chest and clinging on to him and Madanach just held on to her, crooning softly over her and kissing her hair, holding her tight until eventually she cried herself to sleep in his arms.

_I still love you. Never stopped._ It was quite clear she felt the same, and when they'd both rested and eaten, then they'd need to talk, about practical matters and... other things. One thing Madanach did know – he wasn't letting her go ever again if he could help it. She was his Dragon-Queen and she belonged with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Morning found him alone in the bed, Liriel gone, and for a horrible moment, he feared she'd run away again, or met this client without him... and then he smelt bacon wafting up the stairs and heard soft footsteps on stone and realised she'd just gone to make breakfast.

Hoping he didn't look too dishevelled, he ran fingers through his hair, pulled his boots back on and ventured downstairs. 

Liriel was frying something over the fire, something involving eggs from the look of it, and milk and bacon and garlic and a few spices and by Sithis it smelt wonderful. Liriel was wearing a simple blue dress, low cut and slit up the sides, showing off those amazing legs and frankly if she'd wanted to entice him to her bed, she couldn't have done a better job. Madanach was quite used to flesh on show all over the place and could take or leave it. However, what really did it for him was a woman mostly covered up but with clothing that hugged her figure or revealed just enough to get him interested but left the rest up to his imagination. Liriel's dress of choice was one such outfit. 

Madanach slid into a chair before his arousal became obvious. 

“Good morning,” he said, hoping he sounded masculine as opposed to just dishevelled. Liriel looked up and actually smiled, faint blush on her cheeks. 

“Hello,” she said, sounding a little breathless. “I was making breakfast. It's eggs and bacon, with a few things added. I raided Nazir's spice rack before I left, there's garlic and herbs added, and some baby mushrooms. Want some?”

“Yes,” said Madanach without hesitation. “Absolutely, yes.”

A plateful of food had arrived in front of him, before Liriel joined him at the table with her own breakfast. They ate in companionable silence for a bit, Liriel at least seeming in a better mood than before. She wasn't crying at least. Good, Madanach didn't mind comforting her, but he hated seeing her unhappy. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked. “Better, I hope?”

“Not really, Lydia's still dead and this place just feels so empty without her and the girls,” Liriel sighed. “I really loved this house and now I don't think I can live here again.”

“Give it time,” Madanach said quietly. “It's only been days if that. It's a nice little house, Liriel. A good place to raise a family. Not the sort of place I'd ever have imagined you buying, but it's cozy.”

“Don't tell me, you were expecting a dragon bone palace with solid gold furniture and diamond chandeliers and Alduin's skull over the fireplace,” Liriel grinned, making his heart skip.

“Frankly, yes,” Madanach admitted. “This all seems a little trader-class for you.” 

Liriel lowered her eyes, blushing a little. “I had everything I wanted growing up,” she said at length. “Big house, huge gardens, servants, a pony, a swimming pool, everything. Never had to work for a thing. Not until I left Alinor, and even then Daddy's money and contacts went a long way. Wasn't until I got taken prisoner in Skyrim and lost everything that I realised what it was like having nothing and having to start again. Then I got rich dragonslaying and it was so different knowing I'd earned all this, achieved it all on my own. That's when I decided I wasn't going to rely on anyone else to get where I wanted to go. It's so much more satisfying knowing you weren't just given something. That's why I love this place, it's the first house I bought. So what if it's not a fancy manor? It's mine. Same with the girls – they had nothing before I found them, Lucia was homeless and Sissel was bullied all day, every day. I rescued them both, but didn't want them to be spoiled like I was as a kid. So they lived here and they were loved, they really are, but they live in a normal house like normal children, they're not cosseted rich brats. And they didn't care, it was just nice to have a comfortable home, always food to eat and to have a mother that loved them. I didn't bank on the Dark Brotherhood using them against me.”

“Well, they'll be safe in Markarth,” Madanach promised. “I'd already made arrangements with Nepos for him to have agents keeping an eye on them when Argis brought them back. No one will touch them, no one.”

“You really need to stop interfering in my family life,” said Liriel sternly, but he could tell her heart wasn't in it. “You are neither my husband nor their father, you don't have to do all this.” Then her face softened. “But I'm glad you did. Thank you, Madanach. I think you saved their lives.”

“It was no bother,” Madanach said quietly, taking her hand and squeezing it. “I know what it's like to lose children, I wouldn't want to put you through that.”

“Don't pretend you did it out of the goodness of your heart, you don't have any,” said Liriel, grinning. “I know what you were thinking, Madanach.” She entwined her fingers with his and closed her other hand over the top. “I do still love you. I'm just not sure I can be your lover again. Not yet. I'm sorry, love.”

While Madanach could hardly say this was unexpected, that didn't change the fact it hurt. He wanted to take her in his arms, shake her, scream at her he loved her, she couldn't do this to him, kiss her until she was moaning in his arms and pleading for his touch... but he did none of those things, because he'd been around long enough to know it never did any good. He withdrew his hand from hers, knowing if he touched her once, he'd not want to stop.

“My feelings for you will never change,” he said softly. “It took long enough for me to realise Mireen and I were done, and you put me through a lot less than she did. You'll always be my Dragon-Queen, cariad.”

“And you think we Altmer are starry-eyed romantics,” Liriel laughed, but she looked like she was about to cry again. Madanach decided not to say anything to that, because if this conversation went any further, it wouldn't just be her breaking down in tears and frankly that would just be awkward for everyone. 

“So you killed Alduin then,” Madanach said, changing the subject. “I've noticed a definite decline in dragon activity, and the ones we've killed are staying dead now. I take it your Dragonborn mission's mostly done.”

“Pretty much,” Liriel confirmed, seeming relieved to talk about other things. “Alduin was the one raising the other dragons from the dead – with him gone, organised dragon attacks are a thing of the past, and you don't need to worry about the things coming back once you kill them. Best of all, the world isn't going to end, not any time soon. The Dance won't stop, Madanach.”

Easy for her to say, it had done for him now. But he wasn't dead yet and knowing the world would be safe for his people, for his children and the grandchildren he was sure they'd eventually get round to providing him with, that was good to know.

“Keirine will be pleased,” he replied, glad that at least he'd have some good news for her. The shrieking he'd been subjected to after having to admit he'd lost the Dragonborn was still ringing in his ears. She'd be pleased at the balance being restored, and she'd also be at least a little pleased he'd salvaged the alliance. He and Liriel's love affair was purely a matter of their own feelings, and if his heart got broken, he'd make the sacrifice. But having her on the side of the Forsworn – that was far more important than anything more personal between them.

“You be sure and say hello from me,” Liriel grinned. “Oh, talking of which! You must tell Argis this if you see him – Inga didn't get eaten. I saw her in Sovngarde!”

That got his attention. “Really? You did? How is she? Does she remember...?”

“Of course she remembers,” said Liriel, a touch scathingly. “You fathered her child, she's not likely to forget you in a hurry. She said to say hello and that she hopes you're doing well. Doesn't approve of Argis being in the Forsworn, but she's glad you acknowledged him in the end.” Liriel leaned forward, slight smile on her lips. “I think she still had feelings, you know.”

“I know,” said Madanach quietly, remembering Inga fondly. Sweet, kind, compassionate, just a simple hunter, not powerful or well-educated or anything, just a kind young woman making her way in the world and who'd saved his life. The polar opposite of Mireen and that might have been why he'd given in to his impulses and taken her to bed. He didn't think it would have worked out with her as his wife, but that didn't mean he hadn't cared. “I'm glad she's well. She was a fine woman, and Argis is a lot like her, more like her than me. I think that might be a good thing on the whole.”

“She was nice,” said Liriel, smiling at some fond memory. “I liked her. I told her you and I had been... but weren't any more... and she gave me a cuddle and told me it would be all right. Says if anyone could help the Forsworn, it was me. I hope she knows what she's talking about.”

“You killed a dragon god, you can handle a bit of politics,” said Madanach, pushing his plate away. “Come on, Dragon-Queen, we've got a contract to renegotiate. Don't suppose you have a razor and a mirror in the house? I dread to think what I look like by now.”

“Terrifying and dangerous, so exactly what you need to look like,” Liriel said cheerfully, heading off in search of the required items. “But if you want to look like a well-groomed murderer, that can be arranged. Here. Clean yourself up while I get changed.”

Madanach set about grooming himself while Liriel went in search of her Shrouds. All right, so that hadn't been as awkward as he'd thought, the alliance was still in place, and he and Liriel were still friends. It was more than he'd expected. It just wasn't, and never would be, enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Madanach, he's clearly got his work cut out for him to win Liriel back. It's a good thing he's a man who thrives on taking on the impossible, isn't it? Next chapter, it's All The Politics Ever and the King in Rags is in his element, although Liriel will be rather less pleased with him after it all goes down.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Politics, politics, in the end it always comes down to politics, and taking back the Reach is no exception. Fortunately Madanach's willing to cut a few deals in the pursuit of freedom, although one particular deal is not at all to Liriel's liking...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a little tricky to write at first but I got over the block and managed it in the end, and the last scene was a lot of fun to write. I hope you like it!

Motierre looked up as the door to his room at the inn opened. Visitors? He wasn't expecting visitors, and Rexus always announced himself. So who on earth...?

He had his answer as an Altmer woman in familiar red and black armour walked in, emotionless golden eyes staring down at him. Behind her, a white-haired Breton dressed in a style of armour Motierre had last seen on a vampire entered, closing the door and taking a seat on his bed. He wasn't a vampire, but the cold blue eyes staring intently back weren't much of an improvement over a vampire's hungry eyes.

The woman had taken the room's other chair and hauled it over, sitting down, her expression all business.

“You're Amaund Motierre,” she said, without preamble.

“Ye-es,” Motierre said, wondering what the problem was. The Dark Brotherhood had mostly set about getting on with the contract without the need to trouble him much. Now here was one of them, unannounced and bringing her... friend.

“I'm afraid there's been a... problem,” the Altmer said calmly. “We're not going to be able to kill the Gourmet – no point. The scheme's been betrayed.”

Motierre felt the blood drain from his face as everything seemed to go still around him.

“Betrayed... who? How? Do they know...?”

“Do they know it was you set it in motion?” the woman asked, grinning. “No, no, it was just the Brotherhood that was betrayed, not you. But it does mean we need to reconsider our options. Now, in light of this betrayal, the Brotherhood's had to undergo a little... internal reconfiguration.”

Oh good, a coup in the Brotherhood. That was all he needed. 

“And this means what exactly?” Motierre asked, flicking nervous looks at the dagger at the woman's waist. “Are you going to be able to fulfil the contract still?” 

“Oh, of course!” she laughed. “We pride ourselves on getting the job done despite the betrayal of one of our own. Rest assured the traitor was suitably punished. But Maro knows about the Gourmet plot, I'm afraid. That trick is done, and I'm sure they'll move the Emperor, if he was ever in Castle Dour to start with. So, Motierre. Where might he be?”

Frankly, he could be anywhere, but Motierre hadn't heard of the Emperor returning to Cyrodiil just yet, and there was one place the old man always felt at home.

“Probably on his ship, the Katariah. It was moored in Solitude Inlet while he visited. You'll likely find him still there if you hurry.” Yes, please hurry, please get out of this inn and this city and leave him alone...

“The Katariah, Solitude Inlet,” the elf murmured. “I suppose there's no hope for it, I'll have to swim out there.”

The old man on the bed had raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure? That sounds dangerous...”

“I can handle a little swimming,” she snapped back at him. “I grew up by the sea!” Ignoring him, she turned back to Motierre.

“Right, the Emperor dies, as promised. However, we're going to have to change our price. We've had to relocate our Sanctuary, incurred certain expenses, had to call in a few favours. I'm sure you understand.”

Great. A renegotiation. How much was this going to cost him, he wondered?

“How much more is this going to cost?” Motierre sighed wearily. To his surprise, the elf actually laughed.

“Oh no. It's not gold we're after. You see, the treachery from one of our own was foiled only due to the selfless actions and masterful planning of my associate here.” She indicated the old man, who was sitting up, watching very keenly and actually smiling, and if he wasn't Dark Brotherhood himself, he was certainly someone who'd done more than his fair share of killing, of that Motierre was sure.

“Well, I'm very grateful, I'm sure, but what has that got to do with me-” Motierre stopped as the elf got to her feet, closing the gap between them and tracing a finger down his cheek, and when that Nord who'd first answered the Sacrament had growled that he'd opened the door to darkness, Motierre hadn't thought this had been what he meant. 

“My friend went to a lot of trouble to help us out,” the Altmer purred. “An awful lot of trouble. Why, if it hadn't been for him, our Sanctuary would be burning and most of us might not have survived. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to repay him. But you... you have something he wants.”

“Wh- what?” Motierre whispered, knowing that even if he called Rexus now, that wouldn't stop this murdering she-daedra running him through without a second thought, and the man might be getting on a bit but was clearly still a capable warrior and probably a magic user too.

“Influence,” the man growled, getting to his feet and approaching leisurely, taking the chair the elf had vacated. She backed away and took her place by the door while the Breton leaned forward, smiling as if this was a pleasant conversation about the weather. “You're on the Elder Council, so I hear.”

“Who are you?” Motierre whispered, backing away. “What do you want?”

“Madanach ap Caradach, at your service,” the Breton warrior said, tilting his head in greeting. “Maybe you've heard of me. I'm sure you've heard of my people.”

“Your people?” Motierre tried to think if he knew an ap Caradach family. Not off the top of his head... but he did recall where the family names tended to be first name ap surname. “You're a Reachman?”

Madanach nodded, actually seeming pleased. “Oh very good. What else do you know about our history?”

“Not a lot,” Motierre confessed. “Only that the Reach has been part of Skyrim forever but didn't it secede during the war? Those dreadful Forsworn and that King in Rags of theirs took it over... oh gods.” The septim dropped as Motierre realised who he was sitting in front of. “Oh gods. It's you. You're the leader of the Forsworn, oh gods, oh gods, don't hurt me please...”

Madanach leaned closer, clearly enjoying every second of this. “Oh don't worry, Motierre. You're worth far more to me alive. Listen, this is how it's going to work. My Dark Brotherhood colleagues are going to kill the Emperor for you, as promised. Then, I imagine there'll be chaos. Panic. Why, I imagine everyone will start looking nervously at the Dominion, and if the Dominion are quick on the uptake, they might just take advantage. I imagine Cyrodiil will be quite happy to leave Skyrim to the Stormcloaks and insist those troops currently fighting Ulfric come back immediately.”

It was an all too plausible scenario, but why the leader of the Forsworn might care about a Stormcloak Skyrim was a little beyond Motierre.

“Why are you telling me this?” he whispered, confused. Madanach's smile broadened.

“Because I don't think General Tullius will react too well to being told that. I think he wants to win this war, despite being undermanned and underequipped. I think if he's told to give up, he'll be willing to consider seeking help from... unorthodox sources.”

“From you, you mean,” Motierre said grimly, beginning to see where this was going. Madanach inclined his head.

“Just so. We could take the Reach in days if we had to. It's just a matter of the Empire recognising us as legitimate rulers. Last time the Emperor and Elder Council deliberately let the matter slip to the bottom of the pile until after the Nords did something about it. This time... this time, Amaund Motierre, the Elder Council are going to be a little more obliging.”

“You want me to help you take over the Reach?” Motierre asked, shaking his head. “Sir, this is insane. General Tullius won't agree to this, Queen Elisif certainly never will, the previous Jarl will want his Hold back, there is absolutely no chance of this working even if the rest of the Council do summon the Legions home, which is not as likely as you think.”

“It will happen,” said Madanach coldly. “It will happen, because within two days of the Emperor dying, you will be in Solitude taking charge of the war effort yourself, pulling rank on Tullius and telling him the war is as good as lost and the Empire's pulling out. As for the others, you leave them to me. I just need them in a room, all believing Cyrodiil's abandoning them, ready for me to swoop in and look like a hero.”

“That will take some doing,” said Motierre before he could stop himself. To his surprise, the elf actually giggled and Madanach didn't appear angry.

“I know, which is why you'll be softening them up for me,” he said, amused. “Make 'em scared, make 'em angry, make 'em lost, and then when I walk in and offer to solve all their problems, shrug your shoulders and tell Tullius you don't care how the war ends, you just want it ended. And when the dust has all settled and Ulfric's lying dead at my feet and the Mournful Throne is mine, you be sure and tell the rest of the Council the Forsworn won't forget their friends.”

“And if I want nothing to do with any of this?” Motierre asked, having a feeling he knew the answer, but asking anyway.

“We don't forget our enemies either,” Madanach growled, eyes narrowing and the elf was reaching for her dagger.

“Screw this up and I will find you, Motierre,” she said softly. Motierre had no doubt she'd manage it too. He nodded quickly, saying nothing. Mad, they were clearly both mad and very dangerous, but it seemed the most dangerous parts were at least things he wouldn't have to deal with. A bit of effort on his part, sure, but at the end of the day, he didn't greatly care who ran Skyrim. If this lunatic Breton savage wanted a piece of it for himself, who was he to argue?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

After leaving Motierre, the two of them made their way out of the city, Liriel preparing to ride to Dawnstar, Madanach having elected to take the carriage at least as far as Rorikstead.

“I'm not getting on that daedra steed again and I'm definitely not getting on it with you riding,” Madanach said firmly. 

“Not a horseman, are you?” Liriel teased. Madanach just grimaced.

“The Reach isn't exactly riding country, as I'm sure you've noticed, and most of my travel has usually been off-road. Not a lot of call for riding.” He paused, looking up as she mounted Shadowmere. “Will you be all right? You've got a dangerous job ahead of you.”

“It's not the most dangerous thing I've ever done,” Liriel replied, thinking of Alduin. That had been worse. Far worse. This was just sneak on to a ship, deal with the guards, kill an old man. Child's play by comparison.

“Not reassuring.” Madanach had that pleading look in his eyes again, that worried expression that meant he was getting all protective and possessive again. Mara, he needed to stop, she was not only quite capable, she wasn't his problem any more. She'd told him no. It had been hard, heartbreaking, still was, especially after she'd fallen apart in his arms, finally let herself grieve for Lydia, for her home, for her shattered illusion of a tranquil and safe family life. Well, he knew all about shattered illusions, and it had helped having him there, it really had. It had been nice waking up with him there, arms wrapped around her, still asleep but there, still there. Not turning on her in fury. He'd forgiven her, she knew that.

She just wasn't sure she should go back. She was mer, he was human, he'd age and die all too quickly, she should take this opportunity and run, find a mer to love. Plenty of Altmer who didn't live in the Summerset Isles, who had moved on from Alinor's ideas of love, who wouldn't care they weren't her first. Perhaps even a few who'd loved and lost humans. Life didn't end just because one love affair had, Liriel was starting to belatedly realise.

Except it felt so nice with his arms around her, and he'd mobilised an entire army to save both the Brotherhood and her daughters, and when he'd held her in his arms and whispered they'd take back the Reach together... she'd just wanted to kiss him and never stop.

She still wanted to kiss him and never stop. This was the problem. Damn it, she needed to get away from him before she started feeling sorry for him and... that could never lead anywhere good, not in the long-term anyway.

“Haven't you got things to organise?” she said, resolutely sitting upright and not giving in to the temptation to kiss him, no. 

“I have indeed,” and the vulnerability had gone, replaced with a wolfish grin that boded trouble for someone. “Liriel, I know you're probably itching to be rid of me, but I do have one favour to ask. Might I borrow young Cicero? I've got a job needs doing and he'd be ideally suited. Are you able to send him to me? I'll pay him for his trouble of course.”

“I... suppose,” said Liriel, wondering why – well, she could probably guess why, it was more a matter of who. She decided she was best off not asking. “Shall I send him to your usual base?”

“No, send him to Dragon Bridge,” said Madanach, clearly already plotting. “Tell him to wait in the inn, my people will meet him there.”

Liriel promised she would, said her last goodbyes and rode off, leaving Madanach to watch her go. She knew he'd be watching her but she didn't look back. She had a job to do. She couldn't afford to get sentimental now.

~~~~~~~~ 

Elisif raced out of the Blue Palace, heading for Castle Dour, barely reining in her temper, mainly because if she stopped being angry, she'd probably cry. It had just been a week of one thing after another. First the head of the Penitus Oculatus being murdered right on Solitude docks and his outpost in Dragon Bridge being burnt to the ground by perpetrators unknown. Then news of the Emperor's death on his own ship, the crew and guards likewise looking like an angry dragon had torn through the place. Everyone was saying Dark Brotherhood, and Elisif hadn't slept well since. It was a good thing Ulfric preferred to do his own killing really, otherwise she really would be terrified.

Now she'd been woken up with the news that Igmund had been found dead in his bed this morning – no outward signs of violence but Sybille suspected poison. Prime suspect was a short red-haired Imperial man in a tavern maid's outfit who'd been let in to see him the night before and given privacy. Apparently Faleen had known her Jarl's tastes all too well and let him in, figuring the old guy could do with some fun. She'd even searched him for weapons – he'd had a simple steel dagger but nothing else. Morning had come, bringing a dead Jarl and no cross-dressing tavern maid in sight – it was as if he'd just vanished. 

And then General Tullius had sent for her and her day had just fallen apart.

“General, this isn't happening!” Elisif cried as she raced into Castle Dour. “The Empire can't be withdrawing, it just can't!”

“Those are my orders,” Tullius snapped, looking as angry as Elisif and that was something. Legate Rikke was standing huddled on the far side of the table, clearly seething.

“Who from?” Elisif shouted. “So the Emperor's dead – are we just going to let his Empire fall apart??”

“Look, I don't like it either, but I don't have a choice!” Tullius growled. “With Titus Mede gone, it's clear the Elder Council are worried about the Dominion and clear they need the troops in Cyrodiil more than Skyrim.”

“Clear??” Elisif shrieked. “It isn't clear at all, if you leave, there's nothing to stop Ulfric taking this country over and declaring independence! General, please, the Empire needs Skyrim! The Legion needs its Nords! We built this Empire! If Cyrodiil ends up between the Aldmeri Dominion and a Skyrim in the hands of Ulfric Stormcloak, you're not going to last long either! They have to see that, surely!”

“And what do you expect me to do?” Tullius cried. “I'm just a soldier. I don't have the power to challenge a member of the Elder Council!” Then Tullius inclined his head, appraising Elisif rather carefully. “But he might listen to you. Come with me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

This had been a bad idea. This was a terrible idea in fact. Elisif should have just stayed in her palace, let the General handle it. But no, she'd had to get involved personally and now she was being escorted to the Imperial Dining Room to have it out with this Motierre fellow face to face.

He was sitting at the head of the table, going over some papers, an unassuming Breton in his thirties, dressed well but something of a haunted expression. Good. Let the victims of Ulfric's axe-rattling haunt him all they wanted. 

“Amaund Motierre,” she began, aware of Tullius on one side, Rikke on the other, guards at her back and trying not to look as terrified as she felt. “Am I to understand you're having the Legion abandon Skyrim to the Stormcloaks?”

Motierre sighed, rubbing his forehead and lowering the paperwork.

“Is that what Tullius told you?” he sighed. “No – Elisif, is it?”

“Jarl Elisif to you,” Elisif snapped. “Well? I want an explanation, Motierre!”

“I'm hardly abandoning Skyrim,” Motierre said wearily. “It's just that this petty little squabble here is tying up troops more usefully employed along the Valenwood and Elsweyr borders. Look, you have Ulfric penned up in his own Hold and that miserable little ice-pit Winterhold. He's not winning this war. All I am suggesting is that rather than waste troops trying to oust a lost cause Jarl, we simply fortify the borders and pull everyone else back to Cyrodiil. He'll lose support eventually.”

“He will not, that's what I'm trying to tell you!” Elisif cried. “He's a very charismatic man! He's dangerous, his cause has popular support and not just in the Stormcloak Holds either! He's got the Reach too, don't forget! All those mines, all that wealth, all that will fund his armies, you know, and it's not like he doesn't have troops there too. Motierre, please, one last push and we could take him down!”

“It will take more than one last push to take something as mountainous and hostile as the Reach,” Motierre said dismissively. “Last I heard, even in peacetime, the Jarl there spent more time quelling dissent than actually ruling. Let Ulfric deal with the savages.”

Elisif shook her head, refusing to believe he could be that heartless. “Motierre, please,” Elisif cried. “If you take all those troops home, Ulfric will find a way past the defences eventually and there'll be no one to stop him! The Jarls backing the Empire don't have the troops to match Ulfric alone – it's just guardsmen under our control, they deal with thieves and bandits, not hostile armies! We need the Legion! We don't have anyone else in Skyrim with an army!”

“Actually,” a woman said softly from the door leading out to the Solitude windmill, “there is someone.”

Elisif looked up and her heart leapt to see Liriel there in her Archmage robes, the hood down but still looking impressive. She smiled at Elisif, and Elisif couldn't help but smile back. Liriel had always been so sweet and understanding, taking Torygg's war horn to a shrine to Talos despite not being a worshipper herself any more than Elisif was, dealing with that whole Potema mess for her, helping out half the Hold from the sounds of it. It was Elisif's fondest hope that Liriel would actually move here – she could do with a Thane in her court that she'd actually appointed, someone loyal to her, not her husband or father-in-law's memory, or their own agenda in Erikur's case. 

As it was, having Liriel show up like this couldn't be a bad thing, right?

“Liriel,” Elisif gasped. “Liriel, they're taking half the Legion back to Cyrodiil, Ulfric will take the whole country over if they do, you have to help! You're Dragonborn, they all listen to you!” 

“I think you're overestimating my influence, but thank you,” Liriel replied, smiling. “Now, what's all this about the Empire going home?”

“The Empire is not going home!” Motierre sighed. “I don't have the authority to make that decision on my own, but we do need troops in Cyrodiil! We can't sit back and wait for the Dominion to invade – no offence, ma'am.”

“None taken, I'm hardly a Thalmor official,” said Liriel, shrugging. “But you do realise that if you take Legion troops home, Ulfric will take advantage. He's not some bandit leader, he's a very charismatic and intelligent man. If you withdraw, it's a sign of weakness and Nords do not respect weakness. You'd essentially be giving this country to him and losing a very valuable province.”

“I know,” said Motierre through gritted teeth. “But between him and the Dominion, I know who I'd rather take my chances with. Ulfric hates the Dominion, that I do know. Why not have an independent and unified Skyrim under Ulfric and then we can always ally with them if it does come to war?” He ignored Elisif's howl of fury. Liriel took a deep breath and stared him down.

“Because Ulfric Stormcloak is not going to side with you as an equal, he will play you for as long as possible and either ditch you when being your ally becomes inconvenient or take Cyrodiil for his own!” Liriel snapped. 

“And do you have a better idea?” Motierre shouted, pounding the table. “Because unless you know someone with their own army who's willing to give us a hand getting the Stormcloaks out of the Reach and taking on Ulfric for us, we don't have any other options!”

Liriel just smiled knowingly, stepping back and indicated the door she'd slipped in by.

“Well now. Funny you should ask. I found just the man.”

Elisif looked up into the doorway at the man who'd just walked in. Same height she was, more or less, shoulder length white-grey hair with warrior braids, probably about sixty maybe? All that was commonplace enough but the outfit – consisting of fur, sabre cat fangs, feathers, _skulls_ for Mara's sake and showing off more than was really healthy was anything but. Not to mention the glass war axe at his belt, and the eyes, Stendarr, the _eyes_. Silvery-blue, cold, merciless and seeming to stare right into her soul. 

Elisif sank into a chair, a little gasp of terror coming from her mouth as she stared up at him. To her surprise, he actually shot her a grin, taking a seat opposite, Liriel taking the seat on his left. Behind him a few more warriors filed in, including a woman who had the same terrifying eyes he did and who took the seat on his right. The other two stood on either side of the door he'd entered by, one a huge Orc in war-paint who grinned at her like she was a piece of meat, and the other a short red-haired man whose face was obscured by the antlered headdress he was wearing but who was fidgeting a lot.

“What is this?” Tullius growled, slamming hands on to the table.

“The Forsworn!?” Rikke shouted, reaching for her sword. “Are you out of your mind, Dragonborn? They're lawless marauders!”

“They have their own laws, but they're not lawless!” Liriel snapped back, unafraid. “They hate the Stormcloaks too, and there's no one better placed to take the Reach over. You wanted an army? I found you one. Are you going to listen?”

_Absolutely not, you're a murderer who hates and despises my people!!_ Elisif kept it to herself though. She'd heard stories of Forsworn tribes that descended without mercy, carving through warriors and defenceless citizens alike, Destruction magic splitting the sky as they bathed the Reach in blood. How frightening then must this man be if they did what he said without question?

Very, was the short answer to that. And yet he didn't look like he hated her, in fact he actually seemed curious about her. As Liriel exchanged strong words with Rikke and Tullius over the wisdom of involving a bunch of criminals like the Forsworn, the Forsworn leader actually leaned forward to get a better look at her.

“So you're the High Queen to be,” he said calmly, and while his voice came out as a low growl, there was no anger there. Elisif just nodded, not sure how to respond.

“You're younger than I thought you'd be,” he mused, frowning. Odd, why would he care about her age?

“I'm twenty three,” Elisif said tersely. “Not that it's any of your business.” That did make him laugh, and slowly Elisif felt her fear start to abate. Whatever he wanted, he clearly wasn't hostile to her out of hand. Maybe she'd been wrong about him.

“No, you're right, it's not, I do apologise,” he laughed. “Never ask a lady her age, it never ends well. Madanach ap Caradach, King of the Forsworn, at your service. I hear you're having a little Stormcloak trouble.”

“A little? He's trying to take over my country, and now the Empire are just going to let him!” Elisif cried. “And I can't do a thing. I don't have an army of my own, just the Haafingar Guard, and I can't challenge him one on one if I don't want to end up like Torygg!”

“Torygg?” Madanach asked, eyes softening at little, and gods damnit, what rock had he been hiding under not to know that??

“My husband,” said Elisif softly, feeling tears in her eyes at the memory. “He was High King, and actually sympathetic to Ulfric's ideas – might have considered peaceful independence himself. He – he worshipped Talos, although I never did. But Ulfric didn't care. He challenged Torygg to a fight, Shouted him to the ground and just... He was twenty five! He never stood a chance...” Elisif looked away, wiping a tear from her eye. Maybe this man before her was a murderer and a traitor, a leader of rebels and killers – but at least he wasn't Ulfric.

“Nor did my daughter. She was fourteen.”

Elisif did look up then, and she never thought that she'd ever be sitting down with the leader of the Forsworn and realising they shared both a grief and an enemy. He was watching, actually looking sympathetic, and she realised then that she wasn't afraid of him any more. 

“I take it you want the Reach back in return for your help,” she said, guessing even having a common enemy only went so far. Madanach nodded.

“If my people are going to stage an uprising and take the Reach over, damn right we'd like to keep it.”

“You'll have to swear loyalty to the Empire, you know,” said Elisif, slowly becoming aware the room had gone quiet, Tullius and Rikke both having realised that while they'd been arguing with the Dragonborn, she and Madanach had started the negotiations without them. “And – and no massacring the Reach's Nords! Or anyone else for that matter. Once you've got the throne, you've got to be fair and just to your people – _all_ your people. In fact, I want Imperial observers in the Reach making sure you're not abusing your power.”

“Would I do a thing like -” Madanach stopped as Liriel coughed pointedly. He sighed and conceded the point. “Fine, fine, you can have your observers. For the first five years of my rule. After that, no more Empire bureaucrats than any other ruler's got hanging around, understand?”

“Acceptable,” Elisif confirmed. “So you're going to stage an uprising to take over the Reach – then what? Will you help us take Eastmarch too? We could do with the extra troops.”

“Oh, I'd be happy to,” Madanach grinned. “You need have no troubles on that score, my lady. Of course, we'd need some sort of guarantee of continuing friendship after all the dust settles. My people have a very long history with the Nords, and historically it's not gone well for us. I need some way of persuading them you're not going to invade us a few years along the line.”

Elisif didn't like the way this was going, but if she'd landed him with observers watching his every move, she supposed it was only fair.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked, hoping it was something she could actually deliver.

“A marriage alliance,” Madanach purred, and Elisif felt the world seem to go still as she realised what he was suggesting. She was barely aware of Tullius getting to his feet, shouting at Madanach that he had no right to make suggestions like that and Rikke calling him a vile excuse for a human being, and oddest of all, Liriel with her hands over her face, looking like she was about to cry. All Elisif could think was _no, no, no, Torygg's not even been dead a year, you're old enough to be my father, no, no, no._

She couldn't do it. Not even as the price of peace.

“I am not marrying _you!_ ” she shouted, and thank the gods she felt angry because otherwise she'd have burst into tears and that would have pretty much killed the entire conference.

To her surprise, Madanach turned to look at her, the room silent in the wake of her outburst, smiled and began to laugh.

“Me... and you. Oh, that's good. That's really good. I'm flattered, I really am, and don't get me wrong, you're a beautiful young woman but I'm far too old for you and you are far too innocent to be landed with an old reprobate like me. No, don't worry, I've got children.”

“I'm not into girls!” the woman on his right cried, horrified. Elisif guessed that was one of the children.

“Takes at least five jenever shots to change her mind on that one,” the short red-head giggled, and the woman turned a furious gaze on him. The Orc sniggered and the two of them slapped palms together – or at least they did until Madanach glared at them both and they both subsided.

“Not you, either, daughter. Elisif, allow me to introduce my son. ARGIS!”

A shadow in the doorway, and then a Nord in ebony armour stepped into the room, towering over all present bar the Orc and probably Liriel too, hair dark blonde and braided like his father's, yes they were definitely kin despite one being a Nord and the other Breton. 

He'd lost an eye but other than that he looked healthy enough – broad-shouldered, muscular, and unlike his father, wasn't exuding an aura that screamed true-born murderer. Madanach nudged for his daughter to move down one, shifting into her vacated seat while Argis took his. Coincidentally, this also meant Madanach now had a heavily armoured warrior in between him and Liriel, who was gritting her teeth and glaring at Madanach, seething in barely reigned in fury.

“That is my housecarl, Madanach!!” she hissed at him.

“He's my son!” Madanach returned. “And I need him to do his duty to the Reach. I'm sorry, Liriel.”

“If he is here, _who is watching my children??_ ” Liriel snarled at him.

“It's all right, I've got Nepos and some of his people taking care of them,” Madanach said calmly, and Elisif could practically feel the elf's magicka rising around her, lightning sparking at her fingertips. Mercifully, Liriel kept her temper, pointedly turning her back on Madanach. 

Argis was sitting across from her, looking a bit sheepish. 

“Sorry about that,” he said apologetically. “Da and Liriel are always like that with each other. She's normally fairly calm, but he's got a way of getting under her skin. Don't worry, I take after Ma more than him. She was always the quiet, calm type. Easygoing, you know? You won't have any trouble from me, I just do what I'm told.”

Elisif could barely take her eyes off him, and something in her loins was flaring at the idea of this huge, powerful warrior crawling into her bed and letting her do whatever she wanted to him. By the Eight, Argis son of Madanach was one handsome man.

“That's... I... I'm... I didn't know the leader of the Forsworn would have a Nord son,” and she could have kicked herself for poking a sore point like that one must be.

“He wasn't exactly married to Ma,” Argis confessed. “But they stayed friends and he did a good job of looking after me after she died. He doesn't have any other sons, so here I am. Ready to help win back the Reach any way I can. If – if you're willing, of course.” He'd lowered his eyes, whether from nerves or submission, Elisif couldn't tell but it was adorable either way and by Dibella, she'd not had sex in months and she was only just realising how much she'd missed it. 

“Now see here!” Tullius was snapping. “You do not just get to walk in here and demand the High Queen's hand in marriage! Elisif, you do not have to go through with this, these negotiations are over-”

“I accept,” said Elisif, not a regret in her mind. “Yes, Madanach, if you avenge my first husband, I'll take your son for my second and swear life-long friendship to the Reach.”

Madanach's daughter actually gasped, looking as if she was about to laugh or cry, maybe both, and Madanach just nodded.

“It shall be done, lady Queen. We shall take back the Reach and once I have my kingdom, we'll assist the Legion with retaking Eastmarch. Assuming this meets with Imperial approval, of course?” He turned to Motierre, clearly guessing who the ranking Imperial representative in the room was.

“Hmm? Oh yes, yes, quite, no problem,” said Motierre dismissively. “Just take the Reach and secure Markarth and I'll be down directly to take your oath of fealty with the General here and get a few troops and observers down there. Don't worry about the rest of the Council, they're all a bunch of conservative old men and women who hate change but conversely won't bother doing a thing about a situation once it's a done deal. You'll have your kingdom, Madanach, assuming you can take it from the Silver-Bloods.”

Madanach's daughter actually did cry out at that, flinging her arms around her father.

“Old gods, we did it!” she sobbed, tears rolling down her cheeks as she slung on to him. “We're getting our land back!” 

Madanach was hugging her back and then he had his other arm round Argis too and for once, the King in Rags was lost for words.

“Thank you,” he finally said. “You'll get Thongvor's head on a spike, I swear it.”

“You've got to kill him first,” Rikke muttered. Madanach did raise a smile at that.

“Don't trouble yourself, Legate. We've got plans for that.”

Rikke rolled her eyes, looking utterly unsurprised. Tullius was still glowering but he could hardly go against a member of the Elder Council. It was only Liriel who didn't look pleased, but if Argis was actually her housecarl, that would explain that... Clearly there was a story behind all this, Elisif could tell, and when she married Argis, she'd have to get him to tell it to her. As it was, Madanach and his two children were hugging each other, all three looking genuinely emotional at the result of all this. Elisif couldn't stop herself from smiling. Good for them.

At some point, it would sink in that she'd just agreed to get married again to a man she barely knew while still mourning Torygg, and then she'd go to pieces and sob her heart out in the privacy of the Blue Palace. But then she'd recall Argis' smile and the way he'd hesitantly asked if she was willing, as if he'd genuinely cared what she thought about the matter, and the happiness on his face and his father and sister's as they'd all realised they'd got what they wanted and achieved the Forsworn dream after centuries of struggle, and she couldn't help but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whenever I write Madanach and Elisif in the same scene, they always, ALWAYS, seem to end up bonding. Always. I don't know what it is with them. Fortunately, I was able to intervene and ensure they did not in fact end up with each other on this occasion, because Liriel might actually have killed Madanach if that had happened. So Elisif gets Argis instead and everyone's happy. Although Liriel is still going to be having Words...


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four words - The Forsworn Take Markarth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, readers, this chapter is a long one and it is well and truly action-packed. There's a Liriel and Madanach discussion at the start and then... then the fun starts. I hope I did this justice. Trigger warning for allusion to past domestic violence, but it's very blink and you'll miss it.

The Forsworn contingent filed out into the night, over the bridge and down the spiral stairs, out on to the road and back towards the Forsworn camp near Dragon Bridge. There was a brief pause while Madanach, Kaie, Borkul and Cicero took turns slipping away to get changed into something less conspicuous – vampire armour for Madanach, standard leather mercenary fare for Kaie, Orc armour for Borkul and jester motley for Cicero. He'd bounced out last and cooed over his more familiar appearance – at least until he'd seen Kaie glaring at him.

“You're in a lot of trouble, jester,” she'd snapped at him. “That comment was totally uncalled-for!”

Cicero laughed nervously, and glanced at Liriel and Madanach. Madanach just shrugged, while Liriel was too busy glaring at Madanach. Borkul was hanging back, bodyguard face on and deliberately ignoring the whole argument. Argis was actually grinning, looking rather gleeful at the whole prospect of poor Cicero getting horribly tormented.

Seeing a definite absence of allies and protectors in this scenario, Cicero promptly shrieked and fled down the road, Kaie in hot pursuit.

“GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE BASTARD!” she shouted at him, flinging lightning bolts at him, one of which struck him squarely on the rear end, making him howl even louder. 

“Oh good aim,” Madanach laughed, deriving no little amusement at the sight of his daughter chasing after a panicked Cicero. “She's my girl all right – not that there was ever any doubt there.”

Liriel didn't answer. She was following behind, arms folded, shoulders hunched, radiating fury and disapproval. Ah. He had a feeling she'd object to the marriage alliance, but Madanach hadn't been able to think of a better way of demonstrating enduring friendship and reconciliation, and who else did he have at his disposal but Argis? No one. No one but himself, and Liriel would probably have liked that even less. While Madanach was prepared to marry someone he didn't love for a greater good, he wasn't going to do that while there was still the faintest chance Liriel might come back.

“Liriel?” he asked, reaching a hand out to touch her shoulder. She brushed him away, revolted.

“Don't,” was all she said. “Don't touch me.”

Not good. Not good at all, but he wasn't the one getting married, why was she quite that disgusted?

“What's wrong?” he asked. “Is it the marriage by any chance? Look, I asked Argis beforehand, he was quite willing.”

“Willing!” Liriel gasped. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pulled back, baring her teeth. “He's spent his entire adult life putting everything he might want a very far second to whatever you've asked of him! He idolises you, Madanach! Of course he's not going to say no! He will do anything to get your approval! Even if it's likely to make him unhappy in the process!”

“He's got my approval!” Madanach cried. “He's always had my approval! He could have said no to this, I wouldn't have forced him!”

“Liriel...” Argis said quietly. 

“And what would the alternative have been, hmm?” Liriel snapped. “No peace deal? A short term agreement and then back to fighting in a year or two? Constantly feeling he'd let down the entire Reach for the rest of his life? He was never going to refuse you, Madanach!”

“Liriel!” Argis sighed. Liriel was too busy shouting at Madanach to pay any attention to Argis.

“How can you just sell off your own flesh and blood into a marriage to someone he can't possibly have feelings for??” Liriel demanded. Argis finally decided he'd had enough.

“Liriel, she's _gorgeous!_ ” Argis cried, and that had both Madanach and Liriel turning to look at him, Madanach starting to grin and Liriel just looking confused.

“Sorry?” Liriel said, scratching her head. Yes, Elisif was pretty but it took more than that, surely?

“She's _beautiful,_ ” said Argis firmly. “She's also kind, sweet-natured, really cares about her people, she can hold her own with Da which is pretty much essential to survival in this family...”

“Why does everyone think I'm incapable of listening to reason?” Madanach wondered aloud. Argis elected not to respond to that, and Liriel was not going to let herself get sidetracked, not when her housecarl's happiness was at stake. 

“And she's also going to be Queen,” Argis finished. “She could have anyone, seriously, _anyone,_ and she said yes to me. So yes, Liriel, of course I'm going to marry her – would have done anyway, but – but she wants me too, I can tell. I'm sorry, I know it means I can't be your housecarl any more, not after the wedding anyway, but I'll get back to Markarth straight away and make sure the girls are all right, I promise.”

“That's not the -!” Liriel began, before recalling that was her most legitimate point in opposition to all this. “Argis, please. Tell me the truth. Do you really want this? You barely know her!”

Argis turned and looked up at the huge silhouette of the Great Arch and the Blue Palace perched on top of it. 

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly. “Yeah I do, she's lovely, she really is.”

Liriel really couldn't stay too annoyed on seeing that look on his face. If that wasn't the expression of a man in love, she didn't know what was. Well, love at first sight wasn't exactly unheard of, in fact most of the popular Altmer romances had exactly that as the key cornerstone of the plot. If it made him happy, she supposed she couldn't really argue. Didn't let Madanach off the hook though. 

“All right then,” Liriel said gently, holding out her arms to Argis and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I don't suppose I can reasonably expect you to put your entire life on hold to serve me forever. If she makes you happy, then you go marry her. I'm not going to stand in your way. Just give me a bit of time to get some alternative childcare arrangements sorted out first, right?”

“Will do. Thanks, Liriel, you're the best.” Argis hugged her back, still grinning. “Try not to give Da a hard time over this, OK? He means well.”

Liriel didn't answer that one, not sure she could really promise any such thing. Argis just patted her on the back.

“Well, don't actually chuck fire at him anyway. Seriously though, Liriel, you're going to have to move the kids anyway. You can't leave them in Markarth, not if we're going to take the city in a few weeks.”

Liriel knew and that did scare her, her daughters being caught up in all that. Still, with the money from the Emperor job, she had enough to buy Proudspire Manor now, which meant she could get Thaned and get another housecarl and at least have somewhere safe for her children to live. It wasn't Breezehome, but Solitude was a peaceful city with plenty of other children to play with. It would be good enough.

“I know. I'll sort something out,” Liriel said, letting him go and watching as he clapped Madanach on the shoulder and moved on. Leaving the two of them alone together, Borkul having hung a respectable distance back, knowing all too well that when Madanach and Liriel argued, staying out of the way was the best thing for all concerned.

“See,” said Madanach, and Liriel fought back the urge to slap that smug smile off his face. “He's happy, Elisif is convinced we're a lovable band of misunderstood folk heroes, the Empire don't care what we do as long as we keep the tribute flowing, and the Reach is going to be ours again.” He stopped on that last sentence, looking away, actually seeming to choke on the words. Liriel closed her eyes, knowing this was what he'd worked for all his life, a free Reach without the Silver-Bloods ruining everything. She should be happy for him, she really should. She should be squealing with excitement, flinging her arms around him, kissing him passionately, hauling him off the road for... well, this was exactly the problem, wasn't it? She couldn't do any of those things.

“You were lucky,” said Liriel quietly. “You're damn lucky he's happy. If he hadn't been... Madanach, how could you? How can you marry your children off like that for your own political ends??”

“Because that's – Liriel, that's a time honoured method of securing alliances!” Madanach sighed, throwing up his hands. “This is not the first time it's ever happened, it won't be the last either. Might not even be the last in this family – if Kaie doesn't find a husband soon, I'm going to have to start looking into something for her too. I wouldn't force her, never that, but I can certainly start auditioning eligible candidates until we find someone she likes, and if that benefits the Reach, so much the better – Liriel?”

“That's not how it's supposed to work!” Liriel cried, feeling vaguely nauseated at the mere concept. It wasn't like there weren't politics and factions and powerful families in Alinor – but alliance by marriage between two mer who weren't lovers already? Unheard of. The mere idea of selling one's children into marriage for your own gain... Liriel felt revolted at the very thought. 

“No, I know, eyes meet across a crowded room, the two of you fall into each other's arms, can't be apart, get married and spend the rest of your lives together, I know how you people think,” Madanach said bitterly. “I used to think that as well, and then I met Mireen and it all happened as the stories said. Then I spent the next sixteen years taking the abuse so the girls didn't have to, feeling terrified to leave camp but relieved at the same time and guilty for feeling relieved, then twenty years in Cidhna Mine and coward that I am, stayed there to get away from her. That is how your true love always scenario worked out for me, Liriel! So you'll forgive me if I'm quite willing to give arranged marriages a go, because at least they can't turn out any worse!”

He'd turned away from her, hands on his hips, staring at his boots, hair hiding his face. Liriel bit her lip, guilt gnawing at her. She'd not known, not really, although she'd suspected.

“Madanach,” she whispered, reaching out to him and feeling her heart break as he flinched away from her. 

“Don't,” he snapped. “I don't need your pity. My girls are in their graves or grown, the bitch is dead, I don't have to worry about her ever again. Should I get married again, at least if I go in knowing I don't love her and she doesn't love me, maybe it might actually work.”

Liriel wasn't sure what hurt more, the bitterness or the thought of him getting married again.

“No,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “No, you can't!” _You can't, you can't get married again, you're mine!_

“I might not have a choice next time,” Madanach said, voice a low rasp, barely audible. “Could have been me this time if things had been different.”

Liriel was vaguely aware of her hands on her face and a little keening sound coming from her throat and her vision going blurry.

“Liriel,” and Madanach was there, taking her hands in his, forehead pressed against hers. “Cariad, don't cry, please. Macreena, no one can insist on a marriage to seal a deal if I already have a queen. Come, Dragon-Queen, come be Reach-Queen, be my wife and I will never look at another woman or ever need to. There's no one more advantageous to have by my side than the Queen of Dragons, the Handmaiden of the Hag of Hags, the Archmage, the Chosen of Sithis. Marry me, have me, I'm all yours, cariad.”

She wanted to, sweet Mara, she wanted to. Just give in, fall into his arms, let herself be loved. But not like this, not when she was broken and upset and unhappy and weak and needy, gods she hated being needy. This wasn't her, she wasn't the needy type!

She needed... she didn't know what she needed. Space. The ability to breathe. People around her who cared about her and made her feel safe and loved, and although it wasn't like Madanach had never been one of those people, right now her heart was in pieces and he was causing it.

She needed someone who loved Liriel, not someone who wanted a marriage alliance with the Dragonborn.

“I can't. I'm sorry,” she whispered, tearing her hands from his.

“Liriel,” she heard him gasp. “Please...”

“I need time!” Liriel cried, wishing he'd just stop, leave her alone, let her breathe, let her _think!_

“I don't have time!” Madanach sighed, frustrated and pleading and she couldn't even look at him by this point or she'd be lost, she knew it. “I don't have the decades it takes for one of you people to decide you're serious!”

A low blow, and they both knew it because Madanach was reaching for her arm, telling her he didn't mean it like that, he was sorry and Liriel wasn't even angry at him, she was just angry with life in general and why did he have to be human, why did humans have to be so short-lived, why did everything have to be so urgent for them, so now now now? She didn't work like that!

“I have to go,” she whispered, breaking free and then she was running, fleeing down the road, shouting “WULD NAH KEST!” to get her away from him, put him behind her, running for the safety of Dawnstar Sanctuary where there would be Nazir's cooking and Gabriella's latest morbid musings and Babette and Eola to give her a cuddle and tell her it would be all right, and hopefully Cicero would join her later and coo over her and fuss over her as well.

Madanach called her name twice, shouted it to the winds, but did not follow. He'd never catch her and what was the point? She'd made her decision, and in all honesty, he couldn't blame her. She could do better than him anyway. She'd find some nice elf to settle down with, someone who might actually stand a chance at making her happy. Maybe it was better this way, and never mind how good she'd felt in his arms, how comfortable he'd always felt around her, how he'd felt able to let his guard down next to her and how she'd always seemed open with him _(not like Mireen, you're nothing like Mireen, why couldn't I have met you forty years ago??)_.

Best if he let her go. Best if he moved on. He had an uprising to arrange, a city to take, a kingdom to claim. He couldn't afford to waste time pining over Liriel, waiting for her to come back _(or more likely not, he'd lost her for good, sweet, beautiful Liriel, gone forever)._ Time to get back to the Reach, forget her _(never, cariad, never, gods, how am I supposed to forget you?),_ get on with life. He was still King of the Forsworn, and he had a revolution to lead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three weeks later, and Liriel had finally purchased Proudspire Manor, outfitted it and been named Thane by a delighted Elisif, who'd given her a hug, breathlessly told her she was so grateful for everything and given her a letter for Argis.

Liriel had delivered it and watched as Argis had sat down to read it and seemed to disappear into another world, transfixed and staring at it in a daze, happy smile on his face. It had been lovely to see, and Liriel felt rather glad that at least someone was happy.

He'd also been very pleased to hear the new family home in Solitude was ready, complete with new housecarl (a young Nord called Jordis, very cheerful and friendly, seeming delighted to be privileged enough to keep guard over her Thane's children), and volunteered to deliver them personally. Liriel laughed and agreed, guessing all too accurately that Argis was desperate for an excuse to drop by the court and see if Elisif needed anything doing.

Now she was sitting in Vlindrel Hall, Argis long gone to join the Forsworn, waiting for the storm to break. Cicero was there, loyal, faithful Cicero, grinning and singing and checking on his blades. And Eola, surprisingly, had also volunteered to come, sitting there in Shrouded Armour, sword from Liriel's collection at her side, flicking flames on and off in her fingers.

Cicero was no longer running in fear every time he saw Eola – but the bickering and squabbling that had replaced it was no better. Every five minutes it seemed they were arguing over something – except when a common enemy appeared and then they'd both break off whatever argument they were having and destroy the poor thing. Then there'd be a few brief moments of victory celebration before Cicero would abruptly stop, hide behind Liriel again and not come out until Eola had sighed, snapped at him and begun studiously ignoring him again, at which point he'd slink out and remain quiet. Until the next argument.

Mercifully all was quiet tonight, although the tension was palpable.

“Are you sure it'll be tonight?” Liriel asked, hoping Eola was right about this.

“Positive,” Eola said quietly. “Madanach loves his big symbolic gestures. This is the anniversary of the day the first uprising happened. Also the anniversary of Eithne dying – that's his oldest daughter, Ulfric killed her.”

“I know,” said Liriel, motioning for her to go on. “So, he'll want to commemorate those in style?”

“He'll want revenge,” Eola confirmed. “I already told Hogni, Banning and Lisbet to lock the doors at sundown, close their businesses, get off the streets and inside. It'll be now or never.”

Well, it was close to sunset now. Liriel couldn't wait for much longer. She was feeling antsy, impatient, wanting it all to be done or at least under way. _Come on, Madanach. What are you waiting for?_

At around eleven o'clock, Liriel could take it no more. Dressed in her Ancient Shrouds, Liriel crept out, not making a sound. Markarth was quiet, just the guards making their rounds. No one else about though. No sound from the smelters across town. No residents around. Certainly no Reach natives. Silence.

From somewhere nearby, Liriel could swear she heard the sound of mage armour being cast. Then from on the far side of the city, near the Warrens, Destruction magic, screaming, and every guard nearby dropped what they were doing and ran. Leaving the gates unguarded.

The door to Nepos' house burst open, and about a dozen Forsworn warriors ran out, none of them making any noise, just moving quickly and quietly, all heading for the gates to the city. They opened them from the inside, swarmed outside and there was more screaming as they tore into the gate guards. The gates clear, three fireballs soared into the air, followed by two Ice Spikes. A signal. 

Liriel had never heard several hundred mage armour spells being cast at once before, but she recognised an invading army when she heard it. Then an explosion of magic came from outside, magical wave rolling out over the city. Liriel gasped as the wave hit her and she started to glimmer with what had to be some sort of Illusion spell, because she already felt stronger, fiercer, more alive than she'd done in a long time. She sensed the magicka pulsing into her and she knew, she just knew who'd cast it. The spell was Call To Arms, spurring on the Forsworn and anyone friendly to them, the signal from the King that the battle was on.

“Madanach,” Liriel gasped, heart beating faster as she realised this was really happening, Madanach was back at the head of his army, come to claim his city at last.

Moments later, a horde of screaming Forsworn and their Atronachs burst in, weapons raised, magic flaring.

Behind her, a shadow fell, and she turned to see Cicero there, dressed in his own Forsworn armour, glimmering himself from the Call To Arms, two ebony war axes in his hands, ebony dagger at his waist, bow and arrows at his back.

“Listener?” he said, his voice soft and low but practically buzzing with hungry anticipation. “Can I? Please?”

Liriel smiled and inclined her head. She'd got no intention of taking part – running into Madanach in all this could prove a fatal distraction for both of them – but there was no reason Cicero couldn't go and play. 

“Go on,” Liriel breathed. “Go and take back the Reach.”

Cicero howled in delight and raced down the steps, axes brandished high, shrieking “COME AND FACE THE FORSWORN!!! LET'S KILL SOMEONE!!!” as he joined the melee. The Forsworn nearest him looked a little surprised, but someone wearing their armour and shrieking their battlecries was clearly not an enemy, especially when guards ran round the corner and Cicero launched himself on to one, cackling wildly as blood sprayed everywhere.

Eola crept out, pulling on her cowl, own mage armour cast.

“Are you joining him?” Liriel asked, watching the violence unfurl below. Eola shook her head.

“No. I just want to watch and wait. Besides, I can't leave the Listener and Champion of Namira on her own, can I? You need at least one bodyguard in this.”

Liriel fingered an ear and traced a finger down her sleeve. “I'm an Altmer dressed in Shrouded Armour – I don't think there's a Forsworn out there who won't recognise me, and I'd be very surprised if there weren't standing orders to leave this house alone.”

“Not the point,” Eola purred, taking a seat on Liriel's right and casting a rune on the stairs to be on the safe side. “I'm staying. And that's final.”

The flow of Forsworn seemed to have eased off a bit, and then they walked in. First two heavily armoured warriors, one Orc in full Orc gear and one warrior clad entirely in ebony, both of whom towered over the Forsworn, checking the way was clear and beckoning the next lot in. Four Forsworn men, all looking distinctly older than a lot of the others, and then a woman, glass sword in one hand, magic blazing from the other, laughing in delight and shouting for the others to join her as she led the Forsworn into the city. Kaie.

“That's -” Liriel began.

“Madanach's third. I know,” said Eola softly. “So he must be...”

Madanach walked into the city, armour cast, flame cloak blazing, war axe at his belt, headdress hiding his face, but it was him, her Reach-King, ready to fight and Liriel felt her heart in her mouth. She should never have stayed here, she should have gone to Solitude with the kids, anything but stay and watch him go into battle without her. What if he was hurt? What if he got killed? _Please no, Mara keep him safe, don't let anyone hurt my Madanach._

“WE ARE TAKING BACK WHAT IS RIGHTFULLY OURS!” Madanach roared over the mayhem, drawing his axe and beginning to sprint into action, the two armoured warriors, clearly Argis and Borkul, ensuring no one got close enough to do any damage to the King. That of course didn't stop Madanach from lashing out with Destruction spells at any soldier that came within range – his range, not theirs, which meant Stormcloaks were staggering back from nearly two hundred metres away. 

The battle moved on, the last of the Forsworn running into the city, barring the gates and taking up guard posts by them, while a few more raced up to take up look out positions along the ramparts, and Liriel had no doubt a few reserves had secured the exterior. Madanach had already swept up the street in the direction of the Treasury House and Keep, which was where the action seemed to be focused, although there was still screaming and magic coming from the Guard Tower too. Liriel guessed there wouldn't be many left alive there once the Forsworn were done – the Stormcloak soldiers had been just a little too keen on giving the natives trouble lately and the Forsworn weren't the kind to take that lightly. Already the stream flowing through the city was red with blood, and bodies, mostly Stormcloak but a few Forsworn as well, were littering the city. Eola closed her hands and began to creep off.

“Where are you going?” Liriel hissed, before guessing exactly what Eola was up to.

“Feeding,” Eola purred. “All that fresh meat lying around just seems so... wasteful.”

“If you get caught, I am not bailing you out,” Liriel muttered, retreating inside. Seemed like the exciting part was done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Madanach's troops had secured the barracks, the Treasury House and Cidhna Mine – just the Keep left. The doors had been firmly secured, and even Madanach's Destruction spells weren't going to get them down any time soon.

Fortunately, the Hall of the Dead had two entrances, one in the Keep and one in the town, and while Thongvor Silver-Blood had forgotten this, Nepos the Nose hadn't. He'd had people in the Hall lying in wait, and all Madanach had to do was send Kaie off with a good portion of warriors to rendezvous. Nepos' agents let them in, and soon the Forsworn were pouring into the Keep, swarming past a surprised Calcelmo who'd demanded to know why the interruption. Kaie had looked a little incredulous, but waved her people past to secure the main doors and let her father's main forces in while she spoke to this Altmer scholar. 

“You're the court mage, I take it?” she said, eyeing up the Dwemer gear lying around.

“Court mage??” Calcelmo seethed while his nephew cowered under the alchemy lab. “I'm the most noted scholar on the Dwemer in all Tamriel! I've got vitally important research to do, of which the Jarl is less than supportive, and you people keep interrupting! Who in the blazes are you anyway?”

“Uncle, they're the Forsworn!” Aicantar wailed from his hiding place. “For the love of Mara, please don't argue with them.”

“Dwemer, huh?” Kaie asked, recalling some mutterings from her father regarding Dwemer secrets holding the key to the future magics of the Reach. “What's your name?”

“Calcelmo, as you'd know if you ever bothered to read a book on the subject,” Calcelmo sniffed. To his surprise, the barely-clothed barbarian actually looked pleased.

“You're that Calcelmo! The one who wrote Dwemer Inquiries and all those ones on Dwarves! I've heard of you! My father's fascinated with Dwemer toys, he'll definitely want to talk to you. Listen, I won't keep you from your work...”

“You won't?” Calcelmo asked hopefully.

“Oh no,” Kaie grinned. “Only... well, things are gonna get a bit noisy in the main Keep. Lots of screaming, lots of magic, lots of death, that sort of thing.” Kaie paused as the main doors opened and twin fireballs scorched their way down the passage to where Stormcloak reinforcements had been charging down the corridor. Madanach could be heard shouting “Go, my Forsworn!” and horde of warriors tore in. 

“Yeah, like that,” Kaie said, shrugging. “Best if you stay quiet and out of the way until it all settles down, and then once we've sorted Thongvor out and Da's taken over, he can come and talk to you, reconfirm your appointment as court mage. I think you'll find him extremely supportive.”

“Oh gods, what is happening?” Aicantar sobbed. “Please don't hurt us!”

“Oh be quiet, nephew, she just said she wasn't after us,” Calcelmo sighed. “Yes, fine, we'll stay here until it all calms down, but then I want to meet this father of yours and get a full explanation off him.”

“No problem,” Kaie said cheerfully. “I'll leave you with a couple of guards, don't want anyone thinking you're the enemy now.”

“Enemy?” Aicantar whispered, only emerging when she'd gone, still looking anxiously at the two Forsworn who'd made themselves comfortable. One was reading one of Calcelmo's books and the other was poking at a Dwemer gyro, fascinated.

“You weren't here thirty years ago, were you?” Calcelmo sighed wearily. Aicantar shook his head. He was barely one hundred, a bit too young to be out of Summerset really, but his parents had died so Calcelmo had had the boy sent to him.

“This happened then too,” Calcelmo said, returning to his enchanter. “Lots of Forsworn storming the city, slaughtering the guards and taking over. A lot of fuss and bother, but at least it was all over quickly and that king of theirs wasn't actually that bad – actually took an interest and knew what he was talking about. Wonder if he's still alive. Be nice if he was, there's a few discussions I never did get to finish.”

“But – but there's people dying out there!” Aicantar cried as screams rent the air and the unmistakeable smell of burnt flesh and ozone from all the lightning magic reached their nostrils.

“Yes, and we're not among them and we do have work to do,” said Calcelmo, wishing he'd told the boy to go to bed hours ago. “Just let them get on with it. One thing about the Forsworn, they do at least respect magic.”

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The guards fought bravely, but they were overwhelmed and most of their comrades and reinforcements had already been dealt with in the main city. The Orc smiths based in the Keep had their weapons at the ready but on seeing the sheer numbers of Forsworn pouring in, wisely lowered them and surrendered. Nearly all the Reachman servants had been replaced with Forsworn agents by this point, who'd donned armour and gone out to join their King, and those that weren't had sufficient wit to lock themselves in their quarters until it was all over. 

Yngvar the Singer, housecarl to the Silver-Bloods, rallied the remaining guards in a last stand, but one of the Forsworn, a redhead with a suspiciously nice bow and arrows for a simple Forsworn soldier like he claimed to be, took aim and shot Yngvar right through the throat.

“Yngvar the Singer sings no more!” he cackled, and that was the signal for them all to charge. Finally, they breached the Jarl and Stewards' private rooms and while Reburrus Quintilius was hauled off as a prisoner, primarily for the purposes of ensuring Nepos would know where all the paperwork was hiding when he took over as Madanach's steward, Thongvor was hauled out and thrown to his knees before Madanach.

“Well now, Thongvor, this is a little familiar, isn't it?” Madanach purred, weighing his axe in his hand. “Oh wait, no, that was me on my knees as a prisoner, and you and your brother standing over me. How times have changed.”

“You won't get away with this, you murdering Forsworn bastard,” Thongvor snarled. “Ulfric will come and put you down like he did before!”

“He's welcome to try, but this time around, I trained with a Dragonborn,” Madanach laughed. “We know how the Thu'um works this time. Now, your opinion on the Empire, please.”

“Why do you care?” Thongvor said, honestly a bit confused by the question.

“Just answer the question, Silver-Blood,” Madanach sighed. “I don't have all night.”

“They're a bunch of elf-loving weaklings, in bed with the Dominion!” Thongvor snarled. “No true Nord's got any business backing them. Ulfric will triumph and his enemies will fall like Torygg did!”

The ebony-clad warrior on Madanach's right promptly back-handed him. Thongvor fell back, spitting blood and coughing from the shock. 

“Feeling better, son?” Madanach asked, raising an eyebrow at Argis. Argis just nodded.

“Yeah. Just don't like people praising the bastard who broke my Elisif's heart.”

“Well, I'm sure she'll feel a lot better soon now she's got you,” said Madanach, turning his attention back to Thongvor. “Right, you all heard that, didn't you? This man hates the Empire and supports a known traitor and murderer. Awful business, insurrection. Terrible, terrible crime. Shocking.”

“You're guilty of exactly the same thing!” Thongvor shouted. Madanach did have to smile at that.

“Yes, but I served my time and then made a few friends who've agreed to quash the convictions for me. Believe me, I'm not going to make the same mistake you and your brother made with me.” Madanach raised his axe. “By my right as Reach-King, in the name of the Empire and Emperor, whoever that ends up being, I declare you guilty of treason, aiding and abetting insurrection, worship of an illegal deity and wrongful holding of the reins of power in the Reach. Sentence – death, to be carried out immediately.”

“Send me to Sovngarde then, Witch-King,” Thongvor growled. “Praise Talos!”

“Hail Sithis,” Madanach whispered, as he always did before carrying out an execution, and swung his axe down. Thongvor's head flew from his body, and a gasp went up from the assembled Forsworn. For a second, Madanach stared down at the last remaining Silver-Blood, hardly able to believe he'd done it – he'd outlived them all and the Mournful Throne, not to mention all the Silver-Blood assets which would handily revert to the Crown with no Silver-Blood heir to claim them, was his.

“We did it,” he heard Argis whisper, pulling his helmet and gauntlets off and wiping tears from his eyes. “By the gods, we did it!”

“We did,” Madanach breathed, and then Kaie was hugging him, sobbing on his shoulder, then Argis doing the same, also tears rolling down his cheeks and Madanach was having a hard time not crying himself. All around him joyful screaming and cheering had broken out, grown men sobbing unashamedly – everyone had a tragedy, everyone had a story to tell, everyone had lost families, had them torn apart by Silver-Blood cruelty. 

“REACH-KING! REACH-KING! ALL HAIL THE REACH-KING!”

Madanach closed his eyes and let the adulation sink in, raising a fist to the air in acknowledgement. It had felt good the first time. It felt even better the second time around, especially knowing what he did – that the Empire backed him this time and he'd get to keep the kingdom he'd fought so hard for. 

Letting his children go, he turned around to face them all, his warriors, his Forsworn, his people, stopping only to pick up Thongvor's head, holding it high.

“THONGVOR SILVER-BLOOD IS DEAD!” he roared, just for the sake of those at the back who'd missed it. The resulting screaming of delight could have shaken the roof of a lesser building – as it was, the stamping of feet reverberated through the stone. Madanach couldn't stop smiling. All over, it was all over. The Reach was free at last. He watched them hugging each other, grown adults breaking down in tears, Destruction spells firing into the air, lodging in the roof and thank Anu Understone Keep was Dwemer-built and not going to fall apart any time soon. Madanach watched, moist-eyed himself as he watched them have their fun. Finally, he called them to attention with a dual-cast Thunderbolt over everyone's heads. Yes, they had much to celebrate, but they also had a city to clear up and Madanach wasn't going to start celebrating in earnest until that treaty was signed.

“All right, time to start the clear-up. Get the bodies moved to the Hall of the Dead – trust you played nicely with that Priest of Arkay. Clean-up squads, get the blood mopped up – some of us are going to be living here now, duty medics stand by to deal with the injured. That includes injured Stormcloaks – just be sure to disarm them and have them under guard. Rest of you, get some sleep – we'll need all hands available in the morning. Uraccen, first thing tomorrow, go get Nepos, tell him it's safe to come out. Argis, Borkul, Kaie – Kaie? Oh for Sithis' sake, how'd he get here?”

Kaie was kissing Cicero, groping him with an enthusiasm frankly unseemly for anyone, let alone a newly-declared Crown-Princess.

“Cicero wanted to join in!” Cicero giggled, blushing as he cuddled up to Kaie. “Cicero wanted to stab lots and lots of people with his Forsworn friends!”

Well, wasn't that typical. Little idiot must have been hiding out at Liriel's house – which begged the question: did Liriel know that? Was she here, perhaps? Here, tonight, in the city? Madanach didn't know and his head told him to let it go, leave her be... but his heart was screaming to have the guard out looking for her.

She should have been here. Should have been at his side, should have watched as he dealt with Thongvor – she should have been the first he'd held after sealing victory. She should be here helping him celebrate, his beautiful, deadly Queen of Dragons. But she wasn't here, and there was no one to leap into his arms, no one to kiss him and take him to bed to celebrate. No one to join him in the Dance, not any more. Tonight he was King, and tonight he'd be lonely. He missed Liriel constantly, but at times like this he missed her more than ever. He'd done it though. He'd got his country back, and he was pleased, he really was. He just hadn't thought he'd achieve his dream just to find himself dissatisfied still.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Liriel! Liriel, wake up!”

Liriel slowly opened her eyes, blinking. She'd gone to bed, deciding morning would tell the full story, laid down, closed her eyes... and now Eola was nudging her awake, looking gleeful and hyperactive and like she'd not actually been to bed yet.

“What – what is it? What happened? Did we -?”

Eola nodded, practically buzzing from excitement. “Yes! Yes, we did it, we did it, we killed Thongvor Silver-Blood, the only living Stormcloaks are currently in prison, and – and Madanach's King! Everyone is talking about it, everyone! I mean, Lisbet was basically freaking out and so was Hogni, but I got them some meat I'd collected off a few dead Stormcloaks and told them it'd be fine, Madanach wasn't going to start having purges, all they have to do is keep their heads down and noses clean and carry on as normal. That harpy Frabbi at the inn keeps screaming about how the world's ending but I'm thinking if we have a quiet word with her husband, we might be able to do something about that...”

Quite possibly, but there was only one person Liriel really cared about out there.

“He did it. He's really King,” Liriel whispered, feeling the tears coming and her heart on fire.

“He really is,” Eola whispered, and she was crying too and then Eola was hugging Liriel, both of them laughing despite the tears. 

“What about Cicero?” Liriel finally asked, drying her eyes as she realised it was far too quiet. “Did he make it back? He's not...”

Eola shook her head, a little anxious but not freaking out yet either. “Didn't see him dead in the street, and I swung by the infirmary – not there either. I'm guessing he's still out partying or fell asleep somewhere.”

“We should probably go and find him,” Liriel decided. “Make sure he's not fallen asleep anywhere he shouldn't.” With any luck, he'd turn up fairly quickly. She just hoped she wouldn't have to go and reveal herself to Madanach in order to find him.

That was when they both heard the hammering on the door.

Liriel cast her armour, reaching for Dawnbreaker. Eola motioned for her to stay there.

“I have a feeling that's the new guards introducing themselves,” Eola murmured. “Don't worry, I'll deal with this.” She drew her own sword, an enchanted Elven blade originally a gift to Liriel from General Tullius, pulled on her cowl and went to open the door.

“Open up in the name of the Reach-King!” a voice shouted from the other side of the door. Guards all right. Dropping into a crouch, Liriel crept after Eola, just in case she needed reinforcements.

Eola swung the door open, staring glacially at the two Forsworn standing there. Liriel recognised neither, but both looked rather young to her eyes.

“What is the meaning of this??” Eola demanded. “We are law-abiding citizens who have done no wrong and are quite willing to support the new Reach-King. Why is it necessary to disturb Matriarch Liriel's rest like this? Did Madanach send you here specifically?”

“That – that's King Madanach,” the woman said nervously, but her heart clearly wasn't in it. Both of them had seen and recognised the armour, not to mention the Matriarch title normally reserved for Hagravens... and for the Listener of the Night Mother (whether just the female ones or if there was an equivalent for men, Liriel wasn't sure and hadn't asked).

“Um... please ma'am, sorry ma'am, it was just the King wants to address the city in half an hour from the Keep balcony,” the male Forsworn said, wringing his hands. “He, er, sent us to round the citizens up. But, um, I'm sure he wouldn't want to inconvenience priestesses of Sithis. You, er, you come down when you're ready.”

“If you want to, that is,” the woman put in, hopefully. “You don't have to. I'm sure you're very busy people. We're – we're very sorry to have disturbed you. Good day to you, mistress.” She grabbed her comrade's arm and hauled him off. Eola closed the door, took her cowl off, placed her forehead against the door and began laughing, wild, half-crazy and hysterical laughter. 

“Eola?” Liriel called, beginning to worry about her. “Are you alright?”

“Yes!” Eola howled, wiping her eyes. “Yes, I'm fine, oh Namira, yes, I'm fine, that's – sweet gods, Liriel, this is going to be fantastic! Their faces, did you see their _faces!_ Oh man, I'm going to love this city so much with – with Madanach running it. The respect, oh gods, the respect – short of publicly stabbing someone, this city's ours.”

“I'd rather you didn't publicly stab anyone,” Liriel said, getting to her feet. Now this was an interesting thought – how on earth the Dark Brotherhood were going to operate in the Reach now Madanach was a legitimate ruler. As head of an equally illegal organisation, he'd been quite happy to help. As Reach-King, openly sponsoring assassination was probably a bit too far even for him. Certainly she could never take a contract in Markarth again, not personally. But she could get some new recruits, get the others to handle it. Nothing against Madanach or Kaie, of course. No one in her organisation was ever going to lay a finger on them, not while she was Listener. Liriel resolutely pushed away the thought that she'd still be Listener long after both Madanach and his children were in their graves, even if they all lived to a ripe old age.

“So, shall we go and see what he's got to say for himself?” she said, trying to sound casual. She wasn't sure she ever wanted to lay eyes on Madanach again... but she owed him this, and maybe just being a face in the crowd would help.

Eola was more than happy to go and watch, so taking her courage in hand, Liriel steeled herself and went out to see the Reach-King.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

There was quite the crowd assembled outside Understone Keep, sun shining down on Markarth. It seemed so peaceful – the bodies had been removed, a few Forsworn were scouring the blood off the stonework with Destruction spells, and if the sight of Forsworn patrolling the streets instead of masked Nords took a little getting used to, so far no one was actively panicking. Half the city had turned out – workers from the Warrens, Bothela and Muiri shutting up the Hag's Cure and coming to listen, the priestesses from the Temple of Dibella standing outside its doors, Endon and family gathered up near the Treasury House, the inn closed and Kleppr, Frabbi, their kids and all the regulars gathered on the steps, next to Hogni and Lisbet. Ghorza and Tacitus had shut the forge and they'd gathered in a group with the Orcs who worked in the Keep, nervously exchanging whispers about just what had happened last night. 

Figures were already emerging on to the balcony – Calcelmo and his nephew huddled in one corner, Aicantar looking petrified but Calcelmo just looking annoyed by all the disruption. Good old Calcelmo, devoted to his work to the last. Liriel was glad he'd not died in the revolt and from the look of it, Madanach was keeping him on as court mage. Good for him.

Next up was Nepos the Nose with a couple of young Forsworn, presumably agents of his, then a few people Liriel recognised – Mhairi from Druadach, another woman called Soneen who Liriel had spoken to a few times, then Uraccen with a young woman who must be his daughter Uaile, then Braig... and then Duach and Odvan, both flanking someone in ebony – Argis, helmet off and a circlet in place. He looked a little awkward, and kept fingering it nervously, clearly unused to a crown of all things. _Best get used to it, my friend. You're marrying a Queen within the year._

Then his sister emerged, electing to remain in Forsworn armour, a few new stripes of war-paint on her face and arms and ebony weapons gleaming with enchantments replacing her old stone ones. And behind her... behind her skipped another Forsworn, red hair just poking out from the headdress but absolutely unmistakeable. He wasn't exactly touching Kaie, but the way he shadowed her protectively and stood a little too close to her said it all about where he'd been all night.

“Is that Cicero??” Eola gasped, eyes wide. Liriel nodded. Clearly his on-off fling with Kaie had re-entered the on phase. “What in the Void is he... Liriel, I thought you said he and Kaie were over!”

“They were!” Liriel sighed, giving up on ever understanding humans. “I guess they got carried away last night and ended up celebrating in private.”

“Oh.” Eola's shoulders sagged, disappointment all over her face, swiftly hidden behind a furious glare. “The little bastard! I was worried about him! Fuck's sake, this is so typical. I finally meet a guy who might just understand me, and it turns out he's fucking Kaie the sodding Crown-Princess. Great.”

“I don't think it's that serious?” Liriel said hesitantly. Eola just snorted.

“Gods, I hope not. Well, when she gets bored and dumps him for a picture-perfect Reach-Consort, the little git is not coming running to me for a cuddle. He can go fuck himself. I don't care any more.” Her voice caught on the last word, and Liriel put an arm round her, guessing Eola cared rather more than she let on. 

Then someone on the balcony cried out to the assembled city.

“ALL RISE FOR THE REACH-KING!”

Everyone stood out of sheer reflex, incredulity on most faces but the Reach natives mixing disbelief with a certain awe. Liriel felt her blood chill, tightening her grip on Eola, who had taken Liriel's hand in hers. Eola's cowl was off, Eola apparently deciding the Shrouds alone were enough to persuade most people not to look too closely.

Movement as those on the right of the balcony stepped back, and then he was there, Madanach himself, Forsworn armour exchanged for a set of fine clothes similar to the outfit Maven Black-Briar favoured for her days wandering around town, and a circlet on his head, shoulders straight and a certain something to his gait, a certain energy that hadn't been there before, and Liriel could sense the magicka from here. All magic users learnt to shield their magicka pool early so enemies couldn't sense it, but when under the influence of strong emotions, sometimes it got out. Madanach clearly wasn't even bothering to hide his now, and Liriel closed her eyes, biting her lip as her loins throbbed with desire and want and _need_. She wanted to be in his bed, a proper bed in a King's bedroom, pinned down and kissed with that magicka pool wrapped around her, mingling with hers, setting her senses alight. 

He finally reached the centre, Borkul just behind him and turned to address the city.

“Greetings, Markarth,” he called, somehow knowing just how the acoustics in this city worked, pitching his voice just loudly enough to carry and echo off the stone. He'd definitely done this before. “Apologies for the noise last night. I hope we didn't disturb any of you.”

No response except a nervous laugh from Tacitus, the young apprentice smith. Madanach just shrugged and carried on. 

“As you can see, there's been a little political re-organisation here in the Reach. Some of us have been observing the recent upheavals in Skyrim and thinking that if the Reach is going to be ruled by a group of traitors and thugs worshipping heretical gods, it might as well be the ones that were here first. So here we are, and here is your former Jarl!”

Borkul unwrapped what was clearly Thongvor Silver-Blood's head and held it high for all to see, and all the Forsworn guards cheered – along with more than a few of the Warrens-dwellers. Eola also howled in delight, whistling and shouting “We love you, Reach-King!”

She lived to regret that as Madanach raised an eyebrow, swept an eye over the crowd, amused grin on his face, trying to see who that had been. Eola promptly ducked behind a pedestal, blushing furiously. Liriel also swiftly looked down, hair hiding her face.

“Whoever that was, thank you,” Madanach laughed. “Not often an old man gets comments like that. Yes, Markarth, the Nord occupation is no more!”

Louder cheering this time, and the Warrens-dwellers were dancing in delight. Only one voice dared to cry out in dissent. 

“You said that last time!” Bothela shouted, hands on her hips. For a brief moment, Madanach seemed to grimace before fixing a smile in place and turning to her.

“Yes, Bothela, I did indeed say that last time and it duly proceeded to go horribly wrong due in large part to lack of forward planning on my part, I will admit that. However, this time, I think you'll find that I have more than covered myself. A week from now, we'll be receiving visitors. Imperial visitors. General Tullius himself is coming to see us, and he's bringing an Elder Council member along. If we're very lucky, we might even get High Queen Elisif turning up.”

“We've got a siege on our hands?!” Bothela howled furiously, with all the confidence of someone a good decade and more older than Madanach, who remembered him when he was a bratty little seven year old smart mouth with no respect for the teenager who'd got stuck babysitting him. “That's your idea of a plan?”

“Not a siege!” Madanach laughed. “Diplomatic envoys. They made me a deal – sort out the Stormcloaks and the Reach would be mine. A week from now, we'll be signing a treaty and the Reach will become the newest Imperial Province, as governed by the first ruler of the House of Madanach. Me.”

Gasps, and amazed stares as the entire city started talking at once. The Orcs were looking distinctly uneasy, Endon and Kerah looked to be quietly considering the merits of returning to Hammerfell, and the city's Nords looked frantic.

“Don't worry,” Madanach laughed. “I'm not going to start purging the country of anyone who's not a Reachman or woman. Look behind me – on this balcony alone, you see an Orc, a Nord, an Imperial, two Altmer – valued members of my court all. Look around you, and there's Reachmen, Nords, Redguards, Orcs, Imperials. You're all citizens of the Reach, and you're all part of this country too. The Reach has the potential to be as wealthy and powerful as any province, the Reach has the potential to set the world alight! All we need is to get out from under Nord hegemony and unite! Maybe my line will rule, but you will all play a part in building this country as free citizens of the Reach! The mines will be worked by free men and women who get paid a fair wage and get to see their families at the end of the day, not by slave labour! The Eight and the old gods will be worshipped side by side – I've got no problem with the Aedra, never did. The Temple of Dibella can rest easy, you can operate in peace and your Sybil is quite safe. The Hall of the Dead will still be burying you according to the rites of Arkay if you want it, but if you want the old rites instead, we can arrange that too. I might even be able to arrange Code of Malacath burials for the Orcs so inclined. Borkul just declared me blood kin to them last night, we'll be trading with the strongholds – our minerals for their smithcraft. Now we've got our land, there's no need to strangle the trade lanes, so you don't need to fear for your caravans and shipments any more. No law-abiding citizen need fear a thing from the Forsworn. We just wanted our freedom. Now we have it, we're going to use it to the full, like we do everything. We danced with death long enough – it's time to dance with life.”

“Yes,” Liriel heard Eola whisper, emerging from her hiding place, staring up at Madanach again, unable to stop smiling. “Liriel, I had no idea... no wonder you love him.”

“Yes,” Liriel whispered back, transfixed by him, and the crowd's mood was changing too, Lisbet's hostility shifting into something approaching a tentative approval, Endon looking thoughtful, Kerah hopeful, Kleppr and Frabbi actually smiling for once and the Orcs had all started up at the blood kin announcement, staring at Madanach in awe. 

“And for you, my Forsworn, who served me loyally both in good times and bad, both in the last Kingdom and during the dark years while I was locked away – indeed, many of you weren't even born when the last Kingdom fell – this I say to you. When each and every one of you joins up, we get you to swear an oath – to love the Reach like your own mother, to defend her to the death, to guard and protect the land and her people, so that they may dance in peace and liberty. And then after you'd sworn it, we'd tell you you'd have to break it, each and every day, because there was no peace or liberty in the Reach, just slavery and injustice for anyone who wasn't a Nord, and until the day that changed, you would be oathbreakers, forsworn, condemned to betray your word, criminals in your own lands, no choice but to cut a bloody hole into the Reach until we were free! Well, no more, brothers and sisters! That day is here! You have your freedom and you are Forsworn no more! And so by my right as Reach-King, I name you ReachGuard, charging you with keeping this land safe for all who live in it, enforcing the King's Justice and upholding the King's Peace. And when you next sing the Sky Song of the Reachmen, know that all the Reach is at your backs and we now rule the Druadachs, and they will NEVER take the sky from a single damn one of us ever again! For the Reach and the old gods and all who call this land home!”

“ALL HAIL THE REACH-KING!” Eola cried, completely forgetting she wasn't a Forsworn warrior any more, tears rolling down her face as she stared up at Madanach. Not far away, little Adara had got a bit carried away too and promptly took up the refrain.

“All hail the Reach-King!” she cried, heedless of her horrified parents. Then another voice took up the refrain, old, tearful but still strong. 

“All Hail Madanach! All Hail the Lord of the Reach!” Bothela cried, tears rolling down her face, and one by one, the city took up the refrain, spontaneous applause starting to break out all over, and even those who'd spent years cursing the damn Forsworn having to admit that the Reach-King, whatever his faults, knew how to give a speech.

Even as Madanach finally motioned for calm and moved on to more mundane details such as getting the city back up and running, Liriel kept staring up at him, tears streaming from her eyes and not stopping, holding on to Eola who was also crying her eyes out. 

_You did it. You got your freedom, you crazy, stubborn, arrogant old bastard._

_By Sithis, Mara, Anu, Dibella and Kyne, I love you._

Liriel felt the truth of it sink into her bones as she clung on to Eola, probably one of the few other people who really got it. She loved Madanach and always would. She wanted him and always would. 

She wanted to be up on that balcony, being announced as the Dragonborn who'd made all this possible and the future Reach-Queen, and then she wanted to be kissed and rendered weak by all that magicka flaring up close.

She needed to be away from here before she ended up running into his court and flinging herself at his feet, tearfully begging to be taken back. Time and space, not being caught up in the moment, seeing if she still felt the same when he wasn't there. Seeing if she wanted Madanach the man, not the Lord of the Reach.

She'd wait until he'd sorted the kingdom out, signed all the paperwork with the Empire, got things settled down. Then... she didn't know. But this was not the end, not by a long shot. She and Madanach had unfinished business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was it good for you too, readers? I must admit, I was really intimidated coming to write this chapter - I did want a brief Eola's eye view initially of the revolt, but then it turned into this, and then I realised I had to write a victory speech and THAT was a challenge. Fortunately, it turns out Madanach's actually very good at coming out with this stuff once you get started. I think it all worked in the end - I was squealing and tearing up a little as I wrote the Thongvor death scene and the last bit of Madanach's speech.
> 
> And that's not even the last battle scene! Next chapter - Liriel and Madanch meet again, and it's time to take the fight to Ulfric.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the eve of the Battle of Windhelm, and the stage is set for Liriel and Madanach to meet again. While Liriel finally takes the initiative with her love life, Cicero's is going rather less well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And after the high drama of last chapter, here is a more sweet and low-key one, the content of which you've all been waiting for for some time.

“You're not coming?” Cicero shuffled to Eola's side, tilting his head to one side, pouting. Yet another twist in the dance between Cicero and Eola – since getting back to Dawnstar from Markarth, Eola had been civil to him but not really spoken to Cicero much, and she'd been a lot more short-tempered around him. Cicero had reacted mostly with confusion, then avoidance and a fair bit of moping. Frankly, Liriel had given up interceding. The two of them would have to work it out on their own.

“No,” Eola said, pointedly staring at the stained glass window. “Markarth was personal. Windhelm is not my fight. Besides, I can do without having to stay cowled the whole time in the midst of a huge camp consisting of half the Forsworn – sorry, ReachGuard.”

“You know no one will touch you if you're with me,” Liriel said from the far side of Dawnstar Sanctuary's kitchen.

“Not the point,” said Eola, sighing heavily as she poked at a steaming bowl of Stormcloak Surprise. “Besides, I won't be with you, will I, you'll be off swooning after Madanach while Cicero's cozying up to Kaie. Leaving me all on my own in a camp of potential hostiles, just waiting for someone to start screaming 'deserter!' at me.”

“I don't swoon!” Liriel snapped, and Cicero also looked a bit downhearted.

“Kaie might not want humble Cicero cozying up to her,” he said, sounding about as cheerful as Eola did.

“She was cozying at Markarth,” Eola muttered, sounding a little snide. “What happened, did she dump you again?”

“No!” Cicero snapped, losing what little patience he did have. “Kaie hugged Cicero and told him to drop by if he was ever in town!”

“Dumped you, I knew it,” Eola laughed bitterly. “That, honey, was her way of saying 'drop by for a casual shag next time you're in town, if I'm not too busy princessing to be bothered with you'. That was not 'dear Cicero, _sweet_ Cicero, I cannot live without you Cicero, please don't leave me, Cicero!'”

“Cicero doesn't care!” Cicero shouted, face starting to go red. “Cicero likes Kaie and Kaie likes Cicero! Cicero is happy! Eola is just jealous because no one wants her!”

“Fuck you, Cicero!” Eola hissed, shoving her chair back and getting to her feet. Up on the balcony above, everything had gone quiet as Babette slipped away from her alchemy to quietly watch, and Nazir's silhouette appeared in the tunnel. The training room had also gone quiet, Festus and Gabriella's Destruction sparring session coming to an end. Liriel got up, casting her armour and advancing, not sure what she'd be able to do, but realising this had gone on long enough.

“She's not in love with you, Cicero!” Eola snapped at him. “She's not going to marry you! When the kingdom's settled down and Madanach starts dropping hints about grandchildren and inviting all the eligible young bachelors in Tamriel to Understone Keep in the hope she'll fancy one of them, she'll do her duty to the Reach like the good little princess she is and get hitched to someone who isn't _you!_ ”

“ _Cicero knows that!_ ” Cicero howled back, glaring furiously at Eola, face twisted in rage but his eyes... he looked like he was about to cry. Eola lowered her hands, the anger seeming to finally fade. 

“Cicero, honey, I'm sorry...” Eola began. Cicero just brushed her away.

“It doesn't matter, sister,” Cicero said softly, miserably. “Cicero doesn't have a future with pretty Kaie, he knows. But Cicero has a present and... and... excuse me, Mother needs tending.” He sprinted up the stairs to where the Night Mother lived, clearly going to give the shrine a going over, or possibly just curl up at her feet in misery. Eola didn't look too good either.

“Are you alright?” Liriel asked quietly, rubbing Eola's back and pulling her into a hug. Eola shook her head.

“No, not really. It's just – of all the people, why her?” Eola sighed. “I must have spent most of my childhood being told I wasn't good enough and should be a committed Forsworn like her. Now... now she's still taking everything I want.”

“You knew her,” said Liriel, surprised although why she was surprised she couldn't say. Karthspire, they'd both lived in Karthspire, they were close in age, they'd have known each other, would have had to. It hadn't been a big camp. “Were you friends?”

Eola laughed. “Friends? Sometimes. She wasn't all bad. But everyone was all 'heir to the kingdom! Kaie's so great, Kaie's so special, Kaie must be closely guarded at all times, nothing must happen to Kaie!' And Kaie believed it all, took it seriously, took the Forsworn agenda as her very own, put it above everything else. And I never could. I'd seen my sister die, Liriel! I'd seen my family ripped apart. I missed my father so damn much – of everyone, he was the only one who always told me I was fine as I was, told me I'd always be his little girl and he'd always love me no matter what. But he was gone and it was the war's fault and...” Eola took a deep breath, clinging on to Liriel as she struggled not to cry. It was all Liriel could do to comfort her, and while the bitching with Cicero was getting out of hand, it clearly couldn't be easy for Eola watching someone she had feelings for pining after a former rival, especially when everyone knew it wasn't going anywhere.

Eola finally rallied, drying her eyes.

“Look, don't get me wrong, no one's happier than me that Madanach finally got his kingdom,” she said softly. “I hope it works out for them all. But having the power – it'll change them, both of them. I don't – I mean, I wouldn't want to have to be in Kaie's shoes. I like being free too much for that. I can go where I want, with who I want, do what I want. Whereas Kaie's trapped in her gilded cage, every move under watch from someone. I don't think Cicero's fully realised that yet. Or he has but... I should go check on him. Thanks for listening, cariad.” She kissed Liriel on the cheek, and ran off after Cicero, leaving Liriel feeling uneasy. If being official heir to a legitimate throne might weigh heavy on Kaie, who at least had been raised to the possibility, how much would being the consort weigh on her? Liriel had left Alinor to get away from the stifling demands of Aldmeri high society, and physical privations apart, she'd actually enjoyed being in charge of her own life ever since. Queendom could be as much a burden as a reward.

Then she remembered that night at Druadach, dancing round the fire and seeing Madanach alone, quietly drinking in a corner and looking on at something he felt he couldn't be part of. Awareness of his age? Or feeling the King shouldn't be seen being quite so frivolous? Liriel wasn't sure, but what she did know, as she'd known then, was that it was wrong for him to be all alone like that. He deserved to have someone, and if it meant making a few sacrifices, well, Liriel would do it gladly if it meant she got to see him smile.

Eola had found Cicero, huddled up by the Night Mother and bits of the conversation filtered down to Liriel.

“...sorry, Cicero. I know you like her. …don't wanna see you get your heart broken. I like you!”

Sniffling, then...

“Cicero likes Eola too! And if Cicero did not have Kaie...”

“Don't. Don't say it. Just go be with her if you want her so badly.”

Rustling cloth as Cicero shifted and snuggled up to Eola, head resting on her shoulder.

“Cicero is sorry, sister.”

“It's OK, cariad. I know.” 

More snuggling, and that was very odd, they were never normally that close. Liriel really didn't understand humans sometimes.

“Sister, what does cariad mean? It is a nice word. Dear Mad- er, terrifying and ruthless Madanach used to call sweet Liriel that all the time, and he called Kaie that sometimes as well.”

Silence. Liriel recalled what had happened last time she'd asked that question. Cicero might be about to regret answering it. 

“It's a word Reachmen and women use for people they care about, sweetie,” Eola finally said, voice deceptively light and Liriel recalled the explanation Eola had given her. Clearly telling the whole meaning to Cicero was perhaps a little beyond her right now.

“Dear Eola cares about humble Cicero?” Genuine surprise there.

“Course I do, honey. You're a bloodthirsty murdering little fiend, what's not to like?”

Giggling from Cicero, who hugged Eola tighter and to Liriel's surprise kissed Eola on the cheek. 

“Sweet Eola is very kind to say so, very kind indeed. Cicero is... is very fond of her and will not forget her.” He looked away, shoulders sagging.

“Maybe Cicero should let sweet Kaie go. She would not be happy with poor Cicero. She is a princess, she deserves a proper husband. Cicero is just a poor orphan boy with no family to recommend him, he cannot go courting his betters. Cicero should leave Madanach's daughter well alone, maybe.”

Eola had gone quiet, then patted him on the shoulder. 

“Know what, jester boy? Go for it. If it's Kaie you want, go get her. So what if it doesn't last? Be fun while it does, right? Besides, you know what these upper class marriages are like. She'll shag him for as long as it takes to get an heir or two then probably start taking lovers. You might not be as done with her as you think.”

Cicero broke away from Eola and just stared at her for all of a second then howled with laughter, cackling away, rolling around on the floor. Eola watched him, bit her lip, started to smile and then began laughing herself. 

“HEE HEE HEE! Yes, yes, Cicero shall be dear Kaie's official bit on the side! Making up for the consort's inadequacies in the bedroom! HEEEEE!”

“Red haired grandchildren in the House of Madanach who are constantly giggling and like stabbing things!” Eola cackled. “And who can shoot lightning two hundred feet without blinking! Yes! Yes, Cicero, you must do this thing, you must be illicit father to the next generation of Madanachs!”

Cicero was too busy howling hysterically to even answer that, and Liriel decided that mental image was enough to make her want to take her leave. Devastating magical abilities and Cicero's love of stabbing combined? Frankly, if that happened, Liriel wasn't sure even she'd be able to fight them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dusk over Windhelm, and it all seemed very quiet for a city under siege. The Legion were here already, troops camped all around the city, just waiting for the dawn.

A month since the Forsworn uprising and the treaty signing that had happened five days later, followed by the newly-minted Reach-King declaring a public holiday and Markarth erupting in what turned into a three-day party that would put Sanguine to shame. Apparently it had taken more effort to clean the city up after that than after the uprising itself, but it had done what all the treaties and politics hadn't and had all of Markarth united in drinking to their new king's very good health and agreeing that he was much better than Thongvor or Igmund.

Two weeks since the Stormcloak garrison at Fort Kastav had fallen, after several Forsworn had crept in via the cellar, freed a load of Legion prisoners, armed them with a warmer and thicker version of Forsworn gear and then taken the fort apart from the inside. The joint Legion-ReachGuard attack on Fort Amol two days after was a more straightforward military affair, and while Legate Rikke still thought Briar Hearts were the daedra's work, she had to admit they could get the job done.

Now the final days of the war were drawing to a close as the net tightened around Windhelm. Liriel had had the summons from General Tullius while staying in Solitude with her children, telling her to make herself useful and turn up for once. She'd rolled her eyes and obliged, taking Cicero with her as back-up. The Legion camp was close to the city, siege engines poised, quiet and orderly, legionnaires resting or hard at work. Not a Reachman or woman anywhere, and on asking where the ReachGuard were, Rikke had just pointed wordlessly out to the Aalto plain. There on the plain, camped out in the volcanic warmth of Eastmarch's unique terrain, was a sight to raise the heart – the biggest Forsworn camp Liriel had ever seen, surrounded by a stockade, goats' heads at the entrances and the ReachGuard on watch. There must be hundreds of them in that camp. Half the Reach must have turned up for this. 

_Ulfric Stormcloak, you sowed the wind and have reaped the whirlwind._ Liriel felt tears in her eyes as she made her way closer, the breeze bringing the sound of drums and fiddles, shouts and singing and the unmistakeable noise of a whole group of Forsworn all singing “What Shall We Do With Ulfric Stormcloak?”

Cicero squealed and broke into a run, immediately joining in the singing, and it was all Liriel could do to keep up. He paused at the gate, clad in elven armour and his jester hat, fists clenched in the traditional way, did a little dance for the guards and promptly started singing.

“Spell his name out with his entrails, spell his name out with his entrails, spell his name out with his entrails, _early in the morning!_ ” Cicero shrieked, looking hopefully at the two sentries. 

They took one look and burst out laughing. 

“By Sithis, I know you, you're the one who shot Yngvar!” one laughed.

“Madanach's pet assassin, from what I hear. Good job with Igmund too,” the other grinned. “In you come, Cicero ap Stelmaria.”

Cicero squeaked, thanked them both profusely and ran in, singing the chorus. “We are the Forsworn rising, we are the Forsworn rising, we are the Forsworn rising, EARLY IN THE MORNING!”

A dancing group of Forsworn all saw him, cried his name in unison and swept him up into their group, dancing round the camp in a twisting line that snaked around the tents and seemed to acquire more people at every corner. Cicero cackled and was soon lost to view. Liriel had to smile. It really was nice to see Cicero just walk into a Forsworn camp and get accepted as one of them within seconds. There weren't many places he fit in, but Madanach's people had adopted him as one of their own. Liriel would never forget that kindness.

Time to see if she was still as welcome. Clenching her fists, she stepped up to the guards.

“Hello,” she said, feeling her voice catch and throat go dry. “I'm here to see Madanach.”

The guards stared at her then saluted her in unison with fists to the chest and drew to the side, waving her through.

“Go through, Davrha-Brenhina. He said to send you straight to him if you came.”

“His is the big tent in the middle,” the other guard added, quite unnecessarily – unless Madanach had reason to fear assassination, there was nowhere else he'd likely be. Liriel thanked them and made her way in.

Once inside, the camp was laid out in a rather more orderly fashion than it seemed, and it was clean too, arguably cleaner than the Legion camp. Despite half the camp seeming to be out partying, and most of the rest seeming to be in their tents partying in private, there were still a few warriors hanging out and working, sharpening weapons, repairing armour, brewing potions, enchanting gear.

One such was a familiar face in steel armour, looking a little out of place among all the Reach natives. Argis was sitting in what looked like the command tent, with a table covered in plans, chest, writing desk, drawers and four chairs around the table. He glanced up from the letter he was writing and his face lit up when he saw Liriel.

“Hey! You made it! Good to see you!”

“Argis!” Liriel laughed, embracing him as he got up to greet her. Of course he was here, he'd dropped in to visit her in Solitude a week or so ago and when her kids had finished mobbing their beloved uncle Argis, he'd said he fully intended to teach Ulfric a lesson in person.

“For Elisif and Eithne, the bastard dies,” Argis had said, usual placid expression giving way to an intense fury that made it all too clear who'd fathered him. Liriel had raised a glass of wine to that and promised to be there in some capacity.

Now here they both were.

“It's so good to see you,” Liriel gasped, letting him go and taking a seat next to him. “What are you doing? Writing to Elisif?”

“Yeah,” said Argis, blushing a little. “I'm not always the best with words, not like Da is, but I was thinking about her and wanted to make sure that if anything happens to me, I've got a letter for them to send to her so at least she'd have something.” His voice faltered a little, and Liriel patted his arm.

“You're not going to die tomorrow,” said Liriel quietly. “I'm sure of it.”

“You don't know that,” Argis said, equally serious. “No one knows who the Dread Father will claim next.”

“No one but me, and we're not claiming you,” Liriel said, forcing a smile. The thought of Argis dying was frightening, but he was the king's son after all. Not like he'd be in the front line, right?

“Yeah, well, people die in war,” said Argis, shrugging. “Look around you, Liriel, why do you think half the camp is either partying or off getting laid? It's the way of the old gods – night before a big battle, it's traditional to have as much of a good time as possible because it might be your last night on Nirn and you want it to be a good one. You want to have lived before you die.”

“And you're in here writing to Elisif,” said Liriel, fairly sure that the son of Madanach would have no problem finding a bedmate if he wanted one.

“Of course I am,” said Argis, smiling as he gazed off into space. “I can't have her here, so this is the next best thing. She's so lovely, you know, Liriel. I'm really lucky.”

All right, so perhaps Liriel could no longer hold it against Madanach for arranging that particular match, in fact it might just be Madanach had known his son far better than Liriel had, and guessed what he needed.

“I'm really happy for you,” Liriel said, meaning every word. “You deserve it. Does she feel the same way?”

Argis' cheek went a faint shade of pink but the smile didn't so much as flicker. 

“Last time I was in Solitude, she closed court for the day, told everyone she was having a private audience with this clearly very important personage from their new friends in the Reach, took me into her bedroom, shut the doors and wouldn't let me out until it started to get dark,” he admitted. “She said at first she just wanted to practice kissing me so our first time wasn't in front of everyone at the Temple of Divines on the big day. Except it kind of escalated and, um, it's a good thing neither of us were virgins really.”

“You've... already??” Liriel burst out laughing. “Is that allowed? Well, it must be, I suppose, but...”

“You know, she asked me the same thing afterwards,” said Argis, growing sombre. “Asked me if I still wanted to marry her. Told her I'd never wanted a woman more, and then she burst into tears. Took me half an hour to calm her down and once she did, she told me she still did too, she just felt horrible in case Torygg was watching from Sovngarde and was upset with her.”

“Poor thing,” Liriel whispered. “Are you sure she's alright?”

Argis hesitated before replying. “I think so,” he said. “She's still grieving Torygg, I know, so it's to be expected. But I told her I wanted to be a good husband and make her happy and take care of her, and she just hugged me and told me she wanted to be a good wife to me as well, just to be patient with her. Well, I can do that. I'd do anything for her, you know.”

“I know,” Liriel told him, squeezing his hand. It was abundantly clear Argis had fallen hopelessly in love with Elisif, and if Elisif was still mourning Torygg and couldn't quite return his feelings just yet, Liriel had no doubt she'd get there eventually. They were getting married and they'd have their whole lives ahead of them. They were going to be just fine, Liriel knew it. She just hoped the same could be said for her and Madanach.

“Listen, is your father around? I wanted to check in, see how he was doing,” Liriel asked, hoping her nervousness wasn't obvious. Argis grinned, patting her hand.

“He's doing alright. He keeps complaining about all the paperwork and that the Nords had no idea how to run a city, but don't let him fool you, he loves every second. He misses you though. Doesn't talk about it very much, but he does. He's lonely. Me and Kaie do what we can, but we can't be there all the time. He says he's fine and not to worry about him... but we do. He'll be pleased to see you again though.”

Liriel hoped so. He had given orders to the guards to send her straight through, which had to be a good thing, right? Speaking of which...

“Argis, what does Davrha-Brenhina mean?” She had a good idea, but wise to ask and Argis was more likely to give a straightforward answer. 

“That? Dragon-Queen, of course,” Argis said, grinning. “Don't worry, there wasn't an official proclamation or anything, just that word got around about the whole Alduin thing, and that you'd helped arrange the treaties, and next thing we knew, everyone was calling you that. Hope to Anu you are here to get back with him, word is getting around that there's something between you and him and half the Reach wants the Dragonborn of legend to marry their king. Admittedly most of them are just hoping for another public holiday and a free party, but Muiri thinks its the most romantic thing ever, Kerah's designing a whole set of wedding jewellery in hopes you'll wear it, Frabbi's tidying up the inn and stocking up on ale in advance, and Bothela keeps making comments about having plenty of Stallion's Draught at the ready, which I have not passed on to Da because I can do without the ranting that he has no problems in the bedroom department, thank you very much.”

“He doesn't have any,” said Liriel, before realising she was talking to his son of all people and feeling her cheeks flush scarlet. Argis looked more than a little bit pained, but took it well.

“That's great?” he said, reaching for his mead. “I mean, yeah. You should definitely go find him. His tent's just over there, other side of that fire – in fact, looks like he just came out of it. There he is.” 

Sitting by the fire Argis had pointed out was a familiar silhouette in Forsworn armour. Madanach, King in more than name these days, but staring into the flames, brooding, his usual aura of power gone or at least muted, and he looked like nothing other than a lonely old Reachman widower whose children had grown up and moved away, wondering where his life went from here. 

Liriel saw him and felt her heart melt. She could show him one way – if he still wanted to walk it with her. 

She left Argis to finish off his letter to Elisif and made her way out, steeling herself for a likely emotional reaction. Shrouded boots muffled on the ground, she moved silently over to him, the flames ensuring her shadow didn't fall on him. He never even noticed she was there until she settled on to the log he was perched on. He started, looked up sharply and went motionless as he saw her there.

“Hello,” she whispered, smiling and hoping he'd let her stay. He blinked and then relaxed, shifting to face her.

“Liriel. You – I didn't – you're here!”

Liriel nodded, waiting for him to say more, and she'd not known it was possible for someone to smile and look heartbroken at the same time.

“You looked lonely,” she said, wondering if he'd be OK with letting her move closer. Not yet. Too awkward – but if things went well, she might try it later.

“Not any more, you're here,” he said, mind clearly going back to the last time they'd been round a camp fire under the stars. Liriel smiled, hoping he'd continue thinking along those lines.

“Couldn't be in the neighbourhood and not stop by to see how my old friend Madanach was doing, hey?” she said, laughing nervously. “They tell me you're king now. How's it feel?”

Madanach just growled, shivering as he reached for the jenever bottle he'd brought out with him, glowing frost rune on the side clearly keeping it cool. 

“Draining. Exhausting. Igmund's record-keeping was diabolical, Thongvor's was worse. Neither of them knew a damn thing about actually running anything. It's taking me, Nepos and that Imperial steward of Thongvor's all our time just to audit the books. Not to mention all the court cases. If it's not the citizens of the Reach demanding weregild for Forsworn actions, half of which claims, I might add, are greatly exaggerated, it's half of Tamriel taking advantage of certain laws I brought in and demanding I help them out. I don't regret bringing in that divorce law for a second, even if I do have priests of Mara on my doorstep railing at me for trivialising marriage, but by the gods, I had no idea the people of Tamriel had made such appalling marital choices.”

“You brought in a divorce law,” Liriel said, feeling vaguely appalled but at the same time not surprised, and thinking of it, she knew more than a few married couples who seemed to actively despise each other.

“Of course I did, I wouldn't want anyone else to suffer like I did,” Madanach growled. “Don't tell me you're backing the priests on this.”

“Not... exactly,” said Liriel, trying to work out where she stood on this. On the one hand, marriage was meant to mean being bound in love, now and forever, but on the other, if love wasn't there any more... but on the third hand, if unhappy spouses could now get divorced in the Reach... “I hope you realise you've just cut off a very profitable source of contracts for us!”

Madanach put his jenever bottle down and burst out laughing, holding his head in his hands and actually howling in delight.

“That's your objection?” he laughed. “Unhappy spouses don't have to call you in any more, they can just come to the Reach instead? Oh cariad, you're adorable, you really are. Don't worry, due to the unprecedented demand, people who aren't citizens of the Reach have to pay a hefty premium for my precious time spent listening to their marital woes, not to mention there's a waiting list and they've got to come to Markarth. I'm sure the impatient, the far-flung and those not sure the settlement would go in their favour will always be prepared to consider you as the speedier alternative.”

Liriel couldn't help but laugh. By Sithis, she had missed this man so much. What had she been worrying about, that he wanted the Dragonborn more than Liriel, that she might have found the Reach-King more attractive than the man? Here they were, just a man and a woman sitting by a fire and she wanted him more than ever. 

“I missed you,” she said quietly, trying to see how he'd respond to this. His smile faded as he turned away, staring back at the fire.

“I missed you too,” he admitted. “When we took Markarth... I wished you'd been there with me. It was just one of the best moments of my life, and having you there would have made it perfect.”

“I was in the city, you know,” Liriel said softly, wondering how much to tell him. “I sent Cicero along – he wanted to join in so I told him to go. He said he had a great time. Brought him with me tonight actually, but I don't know where he went...”

“So I heard,” said Madanach dryly. “His exploits that night are becoming the stuff of legend – very gory legend, but legend nonetheless. Don't worry about finding him again – just wait until morning and check Kaie's tent, you'll probably find him there, although for Sithis' sake, knock first.”

He sounded like he spoke from some horrific personal experience. Liriel wisely didn't pry for details, knowing all too well what sort of things Cicero liked in bed.

“Yeah, Argis said the night before a big battle it was traditional for the Forsworn to dance, drink and disappear off to someone else's tent for the night,” said Liriel, toying with the Ring of Namira nervously. This next question was a delicate one, but Liriel had to ask. She needed to know if she still had a chance. “You're not taking part?”

She looked away as she said it, not wanting to watch him while he answered, too afraid the answer might be yes, he was just waiting for his Forsworn bedmate to show up now.

“Me? Hardly. I'm too old to be bothered with all that now,” Madanach said gruffly, and Liriel honestly didn't know whether to be relieved or sad for him. “I lived my life, Liriel, had my fair share of lovers as a young man, had a marriage, children, I took part in the Dance. My part in it's done now, was done a long time ago. Honestly, I consider myself fortunate to have ended up with you at all, and even though it's done... I'm glad we had what we did. You're a beautiful woman and you made me very happy for a while. Thank you.”

“You don't have to thank me,” Liriel whispered, placing a hand on his back and fighting the urge to just pull him into her arms. No one should be that lonely, and certainly no one should just sound so resigned about the fact. Madanach just laughed bitterly and took another swig of jenever.

“I think I do, we both know I got far more out of the deal than you did,” he said, sounding amused despite the sadness colouring his every word, every expression. “I get a beautiful Elven sorceress in my arms and you get some old Reachman who's going to die and leave you a heartbroken widow. Sithis knows why you said yes in the first place, to be honest. There you were, alive and beautiful and passionate and free, dancing with half the camp and having the time of your life and I was watching you, loving watching you and wishing there was the remotest chance I could join you and not make a complete fool of myself, and hating virtually every man who touched you because I was convinced one of them would invite you back to his tent for more and you'd happily go with them and leave me to my sorrows. Then you were next to me, worrying about me, wanting to know if I was all right, and although you were clearly quite intoxicated, I hadn't the heart to tell you to go to bed. The most beautiful woman in the camp sitting by my side of her own volition – it would have taken a better man than I am to send you away, especially when you started cuddling me. I didn't intend for anything else to happen, but then I accidentally called you cariad without thinking, and then you had to go and ask what it meant and... once it got to that stage, I thought... I wasn't thinking at all actually, you were just there and warm and beautiful and the worst that could happen was you bursting into tears and running away.”

“Didn't I do exactly that the very same night?” Liriel said lightly, hoping he didn't notice the tears in her eyes. Madanach laughed softly, nodding, still staring at the flames.

“You came back. Surprised you did. I wouldn't have blamed you if you never had. But you came back and I've not been so happy in a very long time. The world seemed like such a nicer place with you around. I took it as a sign maybe things might just work out. And they did – just not for us. It's all right, cariad, I understand, I'm not begging for you to take me back. It's done, it's over, I accept that. Go on, go live your life, raise your kids, find an Altmer man and have some beautiful Mer children with him. Go and be happy, Liriel, you deserve it.”

Given that Liriel's career in Skyrim to date had involved her butchering and eating an innocent priest of Arkay, murdering and framing an innocent man for treason and murdering the Emperor of Tamriel himself, Liriel was fairly certain she did not in fact deserve any such thing, and given Madanach's career... well he probably didn't deserve it either but Mara didn't reserve love only for those who deserved it, that was the point.

“And you?” Liriel said, tracing a finger over his hair, rubbing one of his braids. “What about you, Madanach? Are you going to be happy?”

No answer. Just a shrug and a sigh.

“Does it matter?” he said finally. “Likely someone will at some point show an interest in the unattached ruler of a province with the biggest gold and silver mines in north Tamriel. Sure as Oblivion won't be any love involved, but at least it's someone to talk to.”

Liriel closed her eyes, shaking her head. This was not how it was supposed to go, she'd saved the world and saved the kingdom, rescuing the king in exile and getting him his throne back. He'd saved her kids, won her guild for her, given her a purpose she'd never had before, taken his kingdom back and done what the Forsworn hadn't managed in a thousand years. After all that, the dragonslaying heroine and the recrowned king were not supposed to just shrug and walk away from each other. Not if she had anything to do with it.

“It matters to me,” she breathed, and as he looked up, surprised at the emotion in her voice, she leaned in, cupped his jawline in her hand and kissed him. 

Low moan in his throat and then she felt it – his magicka shields dropping as power just flowed out and enveloped her, her skin tingling as she reached out for him, pulling him to her. Madanach was kissing her back, arms around her, clinging on to her as if he was afraid she was going to disappear again. 

Madanach finally broke away, hands still grasping her shoulders as he gasped for breath. Liriel pulled him into an embrace, and this was different, him resting his head on her shoulder for once, cradled in her arms as she held him and kissed the top of his head. All right, this having a human in her arms, being taller than him and able to do this, this she liked.

“Liriel,” she heard him whisper. “Liriel, what – do you mean it? You still... want me?”

“Never stopped,” Liriel whispered, tears in her eyes and joy singing in her heart as she breathed him in, loving him and wanting him and hoping he could tell, that he felt the same. “When you asked me to marry you, to be your queen – is that offer still open?”

“Are you taking me up on it?” Madanach asked, hope and hesitation in his voice. Liriel nodded, throat going dry and she wasn't sure if she could actually speak any more, not without crying anyway. She needn't have worried. There were tears in the old warlord's own eyes as he kissed her again, gentle but firm as his lips claimed hers. Liriel lost it then, kissing him back, heedless of the tears trailing down her own cheeks or the startled gasp from him as her own magicka controls went completely, power radiating out around them both, protecting and enfolding her chosen mate, her beloved Reach-King. Madanach broke off the kiss, staring up at her in amazement.

“Davrha-Brenhina,” he murmured, awed. Liriel felt herself blushing – she'd been trained young in the art of guarding her magicka and it had become second nature to have it tightly leashed at all times. To have it just let go like that... by Sithis, half the mages in camp must have felt that, judging from the silence that had suddenly fallen, punctuated only by hushed whispering and the sound of Cicero's voice cutting through the quiet.

“What? Why has everyone stopped? Cicero didn't notice anything...”  
Then a delighted squeal and Kaie crying out, “That was Liriel! I'm getting a stepma! EVERYBODY WE'RE GETTING A QUEEN! LIRIEL RHAN-BRENHINA!”

“LIRIEL RHAN-BRENHINA! ALL HAIL THE REACH-QUEEN!” the cry went up, and the drumming started up again, wilder than before, fiddles joining in as fire and lightning and frost magic fired into the sky and the party got going again.

“Well that saved me making the announcement,” Madanach laughed. “Congratulations, cariad, I think they like you.”

“Oh gods,” Liriel whispered, head on his shoulder, hardly daring to look up. “I didn't mean for that to happen! That never – I mean, all Altmer are trained from a young age for that never to happen, it's a horrible faux pas to let your magicka go like that! I'm so sorry, Madanach.”

“Don't be,” Madanach murmured. “It's fine, I'm flattered. We're all fully aware of the phenomenon, we all know what causes it. Strong feelings, good or bad, and it's fine to have those. And when the feelings are good ones...”

“Anyone in range gets afflicted, I know,” Liriel whispered. Madanach laughed gently, taking her hand in his.

“It's not a disease, Liriel. And you must be one daedra of a mage for half the camp to feel that – well, I knew you were strong, but I'm not sure anyone else realised just how strong before. There's only one other person in camp who'd have that effect – and you're looking at him.” Madanach kissed her cheek, looking very, very proud. “Congratulations, macreena. You just proved yourself as a more than worthy consort for the true Rhan-Brenin. That's me, by the way.”

Assuming that meant Reach-King, there wasn't really any doubt about that one. Liriel nestled closer to him, feeling her fears start to abate. It was going to be alright. Madanach loved her. She loved him. She was going to marry him and be queen and go live in Markarth when she wasn't adventuring, and the girls would finally have a stable home she wouldn't feel guilty about leaving them in – after the whole dramatic rescue from Falkreath, Sissel and Lucia had actually had the chance to meet Madanach briefly while Argis was escorting them out to join the rest of the Forsworn on the way back to the Reach and ever since it had been “Mama, Mama, we met a king, a real one, and he was really nice and did magic tricks and made a bird appear from Lucia's ear and told us not to worry about anything any more, he'd make sure there were secret guards keeping an eye on us so no one else tried anything, can we visit him, does he have a palace, is there a queen, you could marry him, Mama, you could be queen!” All of which had torn at her heart at the time, although the relative lack of nightmares due to them firmly believing Madanach's people were watching over them was something to be thankful for. Now... now she could finally go to them and tell them yes, she was going to marry him and be queen and they were going to come with her and be ladies of the court and have a whole palace to play in. They'd love the idea, she was sure. 

“You know I'll be bringing the girls with me, don't you? You'd be better be nice to them, or the deal's off,” Liriel murmured sleepily.

“I have raised children before, I do know what I'm doing,” Madanach replied, kissing her hair as he held her tight. “Of course they'll come live with us in Understone Keep, I wouldn't have it any other way. I'll take care of them while you're off adventuring, don't worry.”

Liriel clutched him harder, wondering why she'd stayed away so long. This was where she belonged, curled up with Madanach, loved and happy and protected by the King of the Reach.

“I love you,” Liriel whispered. Madanach didn't answer, just tilted her head up to face him and kissed her. Liriel sighed and kissed him back, hands sliding under his clothes and she gasped as his fingers tightened in her hair.

“Love you too,” Madanach breathed. “Gods, you're beautiful, Liriel. Cariad, come to bed. Please.”

Liriel couldn't think of anywhere she'd rather be. Getting to her feet, she led Madanach lead her away. She had her lover back – soon to be husband in fact. Time to make the most of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It was much later that night. The camp was quiet, the party over, the inhabitants asleep, some alone, most with someone else alongside them.

Cicero was no exception. Kaie was fast asleep, stretched out alongside him. But not Cicero. He couldn't sleep. He was resting his head on his hand, watching Kaie, frown furrowing his face.

“Kaie,” he whispered. “Kaie, I met someone. A – a woman. She's nice. Pretty. Friendly. Evil and murderous, like me. Loves blood! Loves flesh!” He giggled to himself, grin subsiding as he stroked Kaie's hair. “Except I don't know what to do. She's lovely... but so are you and you are kind to me. I can't have you both, you would be unhappy and your father would be... displeased. Cicero wouldn't want to displease dear Madanach, no. Cicero likes you, sweetling, he does! But you don't love sweet Cicero. You're going to marry a handsome prince and be queen! You don't need poor Cicero. But poor Cicero... Poor Cicero likes you. Humble Cicero likes you indeed.”

Cicero kissed her gently on the cheek. “Cicero doesn't want to leave you,” he whispered. “Cicero doesn't! But you don't want him that way and you'll leave one day. But pretty Eola is a Dark Sister and has no family but us. She is not going anywhere. Only... only Cicero would miss you!”

He snuggled into Kaie, hoping for solace but knowing he wasn't going to get it. 

“Send me away, sweetling,” Cicero whispered unhappily. “It is better that way. Kaie can have her handsome prince, and Cicero... Cicero could see if Eola might make him happy. She has urges too. She understands. She is Cicero's kind. Cicero could be happy.”

Cicero's voice broke as he said that last. He wasn't happy now, not at all. But Kaie made him smile and Cicero cared about her a great deal. He wasn't strong enough to leave the first person to make him happy in a long time. Not even for Eola. In case it didn't work with Eola and she left him. Kaie might not get married for years and that would leave plenty of time for Cicero.

Cicero didn't know what to do. All he could do was pray to Sithis to show him the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Cicero, we all wish we had your problems. ;)
> 
> Rhan-Brenin is literally Welsh for Reach-King, and Brenhina is based on the Welsh word for Queen. Davrha is neither Welsh nor Irish, it's a corruption of Dovah.
> 
> Next chapter is the Battle for Windhelm, as the Forsworn prepare to take revenge for the wrongs done to them and the Markarth Incident's ghosts are finally laid to rest.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Windhelm is under way and all is set for a great victory for the Imperial side. But sometimes victory comes at too high a cost...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, I had some major blockage on this one. Partly it was writing another battle so soon... but partly the ending for this one was a bit emotional. Tissues at the ready, you will cry at this.
> 
> Notes on the Dovah used:
> 
> Hofkahsejun = palace  
> Zeymah vomindoraan = indescribable brother  
> Vohahdrimmaar = mindless one, ie. idiot lunatic  
> Ziizahro = literally spirit-finite-balance, translates as unbalanced mind. Cicero's name in Dovah.  
> Maar-Dinok = literally terror-death, translates as bringer of terrifying death. Madanach's name in Dovah.  
> Ahmul = husband

Day broke over the Aalto, light bathing the camp as the Forsworn hauled themselves out of their beds (or indeed other people's beds in many many cases), all seeking curative potions or casting Restoration spells. It was not like the highly disciplined Legion camps Liriel was used to, that was for certain. All the same, morale was high, even if the mood was a lot tenser than the previous night had been.

 

In the distance, the sound of the Empire's siege engines had started up with the dawn, a reminder that not far away was a city under siege, and tonight they'd be assaulting it.

 

“So what is the plan?” Liriel asked, poring over a plan of the city in Madanach's command tent. They'd spent most of last night in each other's arms, constantly touching, kissing, fucking and finally falling asleep in an exhausted heap in his bed. Now, while they were both up and dressed, Madanach had hardly left her side and even when he wasn't looking directly at her, he'd be touching her in some way, having her on his lap or an arm around her or hand resting lightly on hers. As if he was afraid if he let her go, she'd be gone again.

 

“The plan is to muster the troops at Windhelm's gates tonight,” said Madanach, squeezing her hand. “The Empire's been softening them up for the last week, cutting off supplies, bombarding their city. We're nearly ready, we just need to get their gates down and get in there, but the Nords are being stubborn and those walls are solid. So we need a way to persuade the city to let us in.”

 

Liriel glanced at Madanach, and at Argis and Kaie on the other side of the table, all smirking and she guessed that this was already planned for.

 

“What did you have in mind?” she asked, keen to know what he was thinking. Madanach's grin broadened as he contemplated what he'd set in motion.

 

“Turns out Ulfric's city is home to more than just Nords. Turns out there's a sizeable population of Dunmer refugees and Argonian dockworkers there, all appallingly treated and all hating Ulfric. Turns out a few of them have been acting as Imperial informants for some time. We just took advantage of that and persuaded them to help. They don't want to take the risk themselves, but they're quite willing to store supplies for us and play host to a number of my agents, not to mention a few Dunmer and Argonian legionnaires the General managed to find for me. Tonight, when I give the signal, those hidden agents are going to be breaking out, killing the guards, making for the gates and letting the rest of us in.”

 

“Just like in Markarth,” Liriel breathed, feeling her heart sing at the prospect. They'd be taking Windhelm, the Stormcloak city falling before them, Ulfric dead like the traitor he was, the Forsworn taking their revenge.

 

“Just so,” Madanach confirmed. “Never neglect the lower strata of any society, Liriel – if you need to take a city, finding allies on the inside is key. If even the worst off support its leaders, you will need to bring everything you have. But if they're desperate for a change... the place is already yours.”

 

“We're going to win this one, aren't we?” Liriel whispered, not wanting to start celebrating yet, but at the same time, barely able to contain her excitement.

 

“We're going to take that city and slaughter Ulfric before the Nords' very eyes!” Kaie laughed, fingering her axes, and Argis was grinning, eyes dancing with delight. He caught her eye and nodded. He had a sister and mother to avenge, and his wife-to-be's husband too. He was up for this, more than up for this. Liriel glanced at Cicero, sitting quietly in the corner but buzzing with energy, grin splitting his face. Yes, there'd be blood tonight... blood and a victory they'd sing of through the ages. And it was about to get even better. Madanach had called her Queen of Dragons since they'd first met, with varying degrees of respect. Time to prove that title.

 

“I should tell you something else too,” said Liriel, fingers gripping the table so she didn't do anything as embarrassing as waving her hands around or squealing. “I've got another trick up my sleeve. Want to see it?”

 

Everyone did. Excellent. This was going to be fun.

 

Telling them all to come with her, she led them out of the camp to the open plain. Time to summon the secret weapon.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Cariad, this had better be worth seeing,” Madanach said, surveying the Aalto plain, clearly wondering why they'd all been hauled out here to see a plain that looked identical to how it had done before Liriel got here. “What is it, and where have you hidden it? Unless it's about to rise out of one of the hot pools, I can't see where it might be.”

 

“Maybe it's invisible,” Argis suggested. “Maybe that's the secret.” This was met with a snigger from Kaie and Cicero bouncing on the spot and squealing that yes, all the best ways to kill things happened when the victim couldn't see them coming.

 

“Afraid not,” said Liriel, still unable to stop smiling. “You'll see him when he gets here sure enough. OD-AH-VIING!”

 

Cicero's eyes widened as he recognised the Shout.

 

“Listener!” he wailed, drawing his bow. “Listener, we do not have a trap this time, what if he eats us? Cicero doesn't want to be eaten!”

 

“Trap?” Argis breathed, remembering where Cicero and Liriel had had to trap something. “Liriel, no, you didn't...”

 

A dark shape emerged on the horizon, followed by a gust of wind that nearly swept them off their feet, and all over the camp, the sound of mage armour casting could be heard as the Forsworn raced for their weapons.

 

“Hold fire!!” Liriel cried, trying to be heard over the din. “He's on our side!”

 

The camp might not have heard, but Madanach did.

 

“HOLD FIRE!!!” he roared, and most of the nearer warriors did. Odahviing came in to land in front of them, dust flying everywhere and the ground shaking.

 

Cicero had lowered his bow, still looking nervous. Kaie still had fire in her hands, but had lowered them. Argis had put his bow away but his eyes never left the dragon, and Madanach was staring at Odahviing in disbelief.

 

“Davrha-Brenhina,” he whispered, stunned. “You really can summon dragons.”

 

Liriel nodded, hoping she didn't look too smug. “Not all dragons. Just this one. His name's Odahviing and he was so impressed by me killing Alduin, he offered to help me in future. Odahviing! This is my family – most of it. The non-Elven half of it.”

 

“Drem Yol Lok,” Odahviing murmured, eyes sweeping curiously over them. “It is most pleasant to look upon the kin of Liriel Thur. I remember your zeymah vomindoraan from the hofkahsejun in Whiterun.”

 

Cicero squeaked and put his bow away, bouncing up to Odahviing and beaming. “Hello!” he gasped. “Humble Cicero at your service, dear Odahviing. Are you going to help us kill lots of people in Windhelm?”

 

Odahviing's lip curled back, revealing those deadly teeth in all their glory. “If Liriel wishes it, I should be _honoured._ But I do not know these others. Liriel, who are they?”

 

“That's Argis, and that's his sister Kaie – two very dear friends of mine,” Liriel told him. “They're both very fierce warriors, and Kaie knows magic too.”

 

“Hello,” said Kaie faintly. “You're a dragon. A real live dragon! We're talking to a dragon!”

 

“She misses nothing, this one,” Odahviing growled, watching Kaie and Cicero squealing at each other. “Another vohahdrimmaar like Ziizahro. Still, he can fight, there is no reason she cannot. I can see she has power. Her zeymah now, he does not... but he reminds me of the Nords of old. I have killed many like you, but they all fought bravely. Were you not kin to the Dovahkiin, it would be an honour to face you in mortal combat.”

 

“I... thanks,” said Argis, having sufficient wit to work out that was probably a compliment. “You'd be a challenge. But that's alright, I like challenges.”

 

“Brave,” Odahviing laughed. “I like brave. So much easier to kill the brave.” Ignoring Cicero as he began to squeal see, see, hadn't he been saying that for years, Odahviing turned to look at Madanach, who'd not stopped staring at the dragon since he landed. Mortal eye met dragon eye, and for a moment, neither moved. Liriel moved closer to Madanach, growing uneasy. Odahviing was after all a very big dragon and Madanach was exactly the type to do something to provoke him. All Madanach was doing at the moment was staring the dragon in the eye, but for all Liriel knew, dragons saw that as provocation.

 

“Odahviing,” Liriel began, linking her arm with Madanach's. “Odahviing, this is Madanach, he's...”

 

“Strong,” Odahviing growled. “The heart of a Dovah, this one – power of one too. Take care, Liriel, he might be able to defeat you in a fight.”

 

“I don't plan on fighting him,” Liriel said, rubbing Madanach's arm. “Odahviing, Madanach's my...” She hesitated, and Madanach tore his eyes away from the dragon to look at her, curious as to how exactly she planned to describe their relationship. Liriel wasn't sure either, but in the end she decided to just bite down and go with it.

 

“Husband,” she finally admitted out loud, feeling the tension finally drop out of her as Madanach's fingers tightened around her own. “He's my husband, or he will be as soon as we can organise a wedding.”

 

She was vaguely aware of Kaie cheering behind her and Cicero squealing and offering to form part of the bridal party, but her attention was focused on Odahviing. The dragon had visibly relaxed on hearing her words.

 

“That is well, Dovahkiin. He is a worthy consort for you. There is no honour in marrying a weakling. Maar-Dinok Ahmul-se-Dovahkiin need fear no harm from me. As long as he does not... ill-treat Liriel Thuri.”

 

It had been a very long time indeed since Madanach had had to deal with in-laws making intimidating promises as to what would happen if he hurt their daughter, but he'd coped then and had not forgotten how in the interim.

 

“I will treat her like the mighty queen she is,” Madanach promised, sliding his arms around her. “Only a fool would invite a dragon into his bed and then treat her with anything less than respect.”

 

“No Dovah worthy of the name would take a fool as mate in the first place,” Odahviing grunted, but he looked satisfied. “Very well, Liriel, your ahmul is safe. Now, did you call me merely to introduce your new kin, or did you have another purpose in mind? Ziizahro mentioned slaughtering a city of the joor...”

 

“He did indeed,” said Liriel, eyes shining. “Odahviing, tonight we're attacking Windhelm – it's the big city just over the hill. Will you be able to help? Our warriors will be in the fur armour, the Empire will be in red – they're on our side – and the enemy are the ones in blue, the Stormcloaks.”

 

Odahviing's grin widened. “Thuri, it shall be a _pleasure._ I shall roost nearby – when you are ready to attack, call me. I shall come and aid you.”

 

Liriel thanked him and waved as Odahviing took off, heading for the nearby mountains to wait for nightfall.

 

“See, the Stormcloaks don't stand a – mmph!” Madanach had kissed her, arms around her neck, fingers in her hair, and when he broke off, he looked delighted.

 

“Davrha-Brenhina in truth,” he murmured, stroking her face. “And you agreed to marry me. Liriel, do you have any idea how proud I'm feeling right now? You've got a _dragon!_ ”

 

Liriel could tell, she could see it in his eyes. Husband, he was going to be her husband, and even her dragon thought she'd done the right thing.

 

“Of course I'm marrying you,” she whispered. “My dragon approves, I have to now.”

 

“Yes, you do!” Kaie interrupted, hugging Liriel from behind. “My da's been lonely and unhappy for _years_ and then you came along and actually made him smile again, damn right you're marrying him!”

 

Kaie let go and then it was Argis' turn. He just pulled Liriel into a bear hug, crushing her to him and kissing her cheek.

 

“Welcome aboard, stepma,” he said, laughing. “Da's a lucky man.”

 

“Thank you,” Liriel gasped, breathless as the reality sank in that she was really marrying Madanach, really going to be his queen... and she wasn't afraid or worried or anything, just happy. Really, really happy, and were those tears in her eyes, she wasn't crying, surely not, where was Madanach, she needed a cuddle right now.

 

As it turned out, he was being hugged to death by a demented jester.

 

“Madanach, sweet Madanach, Listener-husband, Cicero is happy for you, very happy for you indeed! That makes you one of us! Officially! Cicero is allowed, no, _required_ , to stab anyone who wants a contract on you! Cicero could not be more pleased!”

 

It was a mark of Madanach's good mood that he'd not cast a cloak spell to get rid of Cicero and almost appeared to be hugging him back (although he would later deny he'd done any such thing). All the same, Liriel felt it was probably wise to intervene. She managed to coax Cicero away from Madanach, submitted to the inevitable cuddling herself, and agreed that yes, it was very good news, yes she was happy, yes of course Cicero could come to the wedding. He seemed satisfied with that, bouncing off with Kaie and Argis, asking lots of questions about Forsworn weddings. Questions that Liriel would probably have to ask herself at some point, but not yet. Right now, they had a battle to win.

 

“I should have mentioned the dragon sooner, shouldn't I?” Liriel said sheepishly. Madanach nodded, but was still smiling.

 

“I'm not complaining,” he told her. “I'm just wondering how you found him. How did you get a dragon to work for you?”

 

Liriel took him by the hand and led him back to camp, realising they'd hardly had the chance to talk about it all, what with one thing and another. So she told him the story of how she'd trapped Odahviing and defeated Alduin, and if Madanach had not already wanted her as his queen before hearing it, he would have proposed on the spot afterwards.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Night fell, the moons rose and the aurora blazed over Windhelm, the siege engines finally silent, but the tension in the air was not peace, far from it.

 

“This operation of yours had better work, Madanach,” Tullius growled, impatient. He'd have been all for attacking hours ago, but Madanach had persuaded him night was better for this sort of thing, and Rikke had agreed it would be better if there were fewer civilians around. Now he had Madanach and his eclectic inner circle grouped around his command tent, Madanach in a new version of Forsworn gear with more layers and fur covering all skin below his neck, and his daughter wearing the same, Madanach's son dressed from top to toe in ebony, and then there was the Dragonborn herself in red and black and that ridiculous jester of hers in the same. An odder group you wouldn't find anywhere, but they all looked calm and they all looked focused.

 

“It'll work,” Madanach said calmly. “My people know what they're doing.”

 

Tullius hoped so, for all their sakes. He'd reluctantly given the names of the Imperial operatives in Windhelm and written a letter of introduction for them on Madanach's behalf and let him get on with it, guessing that if anyone knew anything about exploiting racial tensions for politics it was the King in Rags.

 

Now they were all waiting to see if this had paid off, all watching from the hill while the massed ranks of Imperial soldiers on one side and a chaotic gathering of Forsworn on the other all stood ready to attack. They just needed the signal.

 

Madanach took a deep breath, squeezed his son's hand, then his daughter's, even gave the idiot jester a pat on the shoulder before turning to the Dragonborn and taking her face in his hands, kissing her full on the lips in a frankly obscene display before a cough from Rikke distracted them both. Great, a good Legate gone – she'd never be able to stay in the Legion once she'd married a lawful ruler. Liriel just kissed him on the cheek and told him softly to get out there and take that city, and he kissed her hand, whispered “we'll take it together, Queen of Dragons” and stepped out of the tent, hands raised, magic blazing at his fingers. Crouch down, swirling his hands to summon power, then head back and hands raised, green light blazing at this point... and then down, the magic sweeping out across the camp and even Tullius could feel this, life, energy, a call to fight, a rush of power calling on all those who wanted to see the Stormcloak fall. Judging from the rustle presently going through both Legion and Forsworn, that was an awful lot of people.

 

Next thing Tullius knew, there was magic firing on the docks as the Argonian Assemblage flung its doors open, and a small group of Forsworn and Argonian undercover Legionnaires swept out, slaughtering the guards and rushing up the stairs to the city's side entrance. Meanwhile, inside Windhelm itself, there was more magic and the screaming had started, as more Forsworn and Dunmer emerged from the Grey Quarter, answering the call. The side doors were flung open to let the dock attackers in, then the battle inside was on. The minutes ticked by as the troops below began to get restless, chafing for it to be their turn. Then it happened. The great gates swung open as the Forsworn slaughtered the gate guards and opened the way for their brethren on the outside.

 

“Now, Dragon-Queen,” Madanach whispered, and Liriel stepped forward, raising her voice in a Thu'um.

 

“OD-AH-VIING!”

 

Wingbeats, and then a dragon swept over their heads. Tullius could have cursed his luck, but neither Liriel nor Madanach looked anything other than pleased as the beast descended on the city, ignoring the Forsworn and Legionnaires completely but raining Oblivion itself down on the Stormcloaks.

 

“Did you just summon a dragon to help?” Rikke said, her voice faint. Liriel nodded, gleeful. Rikke stared at her then actually bowed her head.

 

“Dragonborn,” she whispered. “By the gods.”

 

Down below, the Forsworn had cast their mage armour as one and were pouring over the bridge into the city, a horde of screaming fanatics eager for revenge against a Jarl who'd once stormed Markarth and put half the city to the sword. Madanach had assured him his troops were only after revenge on Ulfric, not civilians, but looking at that mob, Tullius wasn't nearly so sure they'd remember that in the heat of battle.

 

“Dear gods,” Tullius whispered to himself as the carnage began. “What have we done?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Smoke. Fire. Screaming. Chaos. Liriel coughed as she pushed her way through Windhelm's streets, the ReachGuard's magic arcing through the air and slamming into Stormcloaks while Legionnaires and ReachGuard melee fighters were going hand to hand in the streets. While homes and businesses were for the most part being left alone, some of the buildings did have flaming roofs and Liriel had already seen Rolff Stone-Fist lying face down outside the Candlehearth in a pool of blood – part of Madanach's deal with the Dunmer was that Rolff was the first to die, and so it had been.

 

Now she and Madanach were forcing their way through the melee, troops on their side seeing Reach gear and the Brotherhood's red and black and falling back to let them through. Tullius and Rikke were up ahead carving a way through the Stormcloaks still fighting, and Madanach and Liriel were both sending Destruction magic over their heads to ease their passage. Behind them, Argis brought up the rear, ensuring no one got too close and keeping an eye out behind for sneak attacks. Cicero and Kaie were out there too, off in another direction wreaking havoc. No doubt they'd catch up later. Right now, all Liriel cared about was reaching their ultimate goal – the Palace of the Kings.

 

Another corner turned, another blast of fire from her and Madanach combined to help clear the way for Tullius and Rikke, and then they were out into the courtyard in front of Ulfric's palace.

 

Odahviing was hovering overhead, breathing fire all over a hapless group of Stormcloak soldiers. So distracted were the ground troops by the dragon that they didn't notice the enemy leaders all emerging on the ground until it was too late. Liriel slit the throat of one from behind before casting Chain Lightning on the rest. Madanach joined her, and the combined swords of Tullius, Rikke and Argis did the rest. Just the palace's doors to get down now. No Hall of the Dead with a side entrance this time, but this time, they had a dragon.

 

“Odahviing!” Liriel cried. “ _ODAHVIING!_ ”

 

The dragon turned his head, before taking off, turning around and coming to land next to Liriel.

 

“Thuri?” he asked, surprised and a little disappointed to be interrupted in the middle of battle. “Did you need something else?”

 

“Could you get those doors open for us?” Liriel asked. “The enemy leader's hiding in there, coward that he is. We need to get in and deal with him.”

 

Odahviing grunted, cruel smile on his face. “Leave it to me, Thuri. Those doors will not stand up to one of the Dov. _FUS RO DAAAAHHHH!_ ”

 

When shouted by a dragon, it was amazing just how much more power that Shout had. The doors went flying, and Madanach, who'd heard the same Shout used to lay waste to his troops and kill his daughter, actually made the Reach sign against ill luck to see what it had done to that palace. Still, he'd been a soldier too long to get sentimental and Reachmen weren't superstitious by nature, despite appearances to the contrary – they believed in magic because it worked, and no native of the Reach was going to get too worked up about displays of magical prowess when it was wielded against their enemies. Seconds later and he'd pulled himself together, racing into the palace after Liriel.

 

A few Stormcloaks raced to fight them, easily dealt with – Liriel blasted one off his feet with fire and Rikke did for another, while Argis took two out in quick succession. Madanach's lightning picked off the stragglers, and then it was just Ulfric Stormcloak sitting on his throne, Galmar Stone-Fist standing before him with battle-axe in hand.

 

“Give it up, Ulfric!” Tullius shouted, sword drawn. “Your city's on fire, the rest of the country's in Imperial hands. Stand down, it's over. Your treason's at an end.”

 

Ulfric didn't even look bothered, just surveying them calmly, the faintest hint of a smirk as his eyes fell on Madanach.

 

“The Empire's found some strange bedfellows, it seems,” Ulfric laughed. “I'd heard stories of Forsworn attacking Kastav and Amol. Tell me, Madanach, what did they offer you? I want to know what it took to get you to throw away your principles and get in bed with them.”

 

Madanach's fingers flexed, lightning crackling between them, but he kept his head.

 

“I know the value of compromise, Ulfric, and unlike you, I had a vision of a land without war to hope for. Peace, Ulfric. A life spent doing something other than looking for a fight to end it so you can get to Sovngarde.”

 

That did get to Ulfric. “Do not speak to me of Sovngarde, witchman. What would you know of our sacred traditions?” he snapped, glaring at Madanach. It was not the Reach-King who answered him but Rikke, who knew the traditions all too well.

 

“He may not be a Nord, but I am,” Rikke shouted. “Ulfric, murdering the High King, defying an Empire you swore loyalty to – this is not our way! You _swore an oath,_ Ulfric! When you joined the Legion, when you became Jarl, when you were at the Moot and Torygg became King – you swore oaths of loyalty! And you _broke them all!_ ”

 

“An oath made to one who cannot keep faith in turn is no oath at all, you know that, Rikke!” Ulfric snarled. “To see you still drinking the Empire's milk – you're not the woman I thought you were.”

 

“No, and I am glad of it,” said Rikke, face stern and only the faintest flicker in her eyes betraying any regret or sadness at how things had come to this. That was Legate Rikke, a soldier and professional to the end. Liriel had always liked her for that very reason. “General, over to you.”

 

“Thank you, Legate.” Tullius stepped forward and raised his voice. “Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, you are guilty of murder, treason and insurrection. Stand down to face the Emperor's justice. Stone-Fist, if you surrender now, I'm prepared to accept you were just following orders and commute your execution to imprisonment.”

 

“Oh gods, don't tell him that,” Madanach muttered, clearly recalling what had happened when he'd been given that choice. Fortunately, Galmar Stone-Fist was no Reachman, with only an afterlife in the Void and then a return to a new life to look forward to on death. He was a Nord to the last.

 

“True Nords never back down!” Galmar shouted and he raised his axe, heading straight for Madanach, who already had frost magic going, but it only slowed Galmar a little.

 

A vision flashed before Liriel of Arnbjorn's beast form leaping on Madanach, tearing him apart, blood everywhere, of it taking all her skill in Restoration to fix the damage and he still had the scars. They'd been separated at the time, but she'd still not been able to bear seeing him hurt. Now he was hers again, her husband to be? _Never again will they lay a finger._

 

“FUS RO DAH!”

 

Galmar was flung back into the wall, and Liriel leapt after him, Dawnbreaker drawn. She shoved the golden blade into his chest and finished him off with fire.

 

“You have no honour, witch-elf,” was all Ulfric said as he watched Galmar die, which was a bit rich considering he'd served a similar fate on others many times himself. “Are your ancestors proud of you now?”

 

“My ancestors are gods,” Liriel laughed. “Come face me, Stormcloak. Come, coward, come face a dragon!”

 

“Five on one are no honourable odds,” Ulfric growled, reaching for his sword. “But I can even them, Dragonborn. FUS RO DAH!” The Shout sent Tullius and Rikke flying back, and even Argis lost his footing. But Liriel only staggered and Madanach's training with Liriel and long discussions over how the Thu'um worked hadn't gone to waste. He'd got a ward up at the first syllable and the Shout didn't affect him. As Ulfric got up, sword in hand, Madanach cast armour and reached for his axe.

 

“That it?” Madanach laughed. “You Nords can't even get magic right.”

 

“I don't need it, Witch-King,” Ulfric snarled, advancing on him, sword raised. “I fought you before and won.”

 

“I surrendered, Stormcloak. It's not the same,” Madanach purred, although it was breaking his heart to remember Eithne's broken form. But she was gone, and he'd see her again one day – maybe she'd already come back, who knew. But he could feel her spirit, whispering in his ear, whispering for the father she'd adored to finally avenge her.

 

“Surrender, yes,” Ulfric laughed. “I remember. You gave up. Not so powerful after all, were you? At least you knew when you were beaten. Pity you forgot that lesson.”

 

“I had children, Ulfric,” Madanach snarled, backing away, lightning in his free hand ready to go. “I had a people who needed me. But most of all, I had one thing you don't.”

 

“And what would that be?” Ulfric asked as he advanced, that patronising smirk never leaving his face. Well, it wouldn't be there much longer, Sithis willing.

 

Madanach just smiled. “I know how to play the long game, Nord. I understand _strategy._ Sadly for you, I don't think you do.”

 

“What are you talking about- ack!” Dawnbreaker emerged through his ribcage as Liriel shoved her blade through his chest. Shrouded Boots had made no sound on the floor and Liriel had been silent as she'd crept up behind him, taking advantage of Ulfric being distracted by Madanach. Ulfric lived just long enough to look up and see Liriel smiling sweetly down at him before the Blade of Woe slit his throat and the Bear of Windhelm's Voice was forever silenced.

 

Liriel retrieved Dawnbreaker, wiping her blades off on Ulfric's clothes before sheathing them and looking up at Madanach. She looked like she was about to say something but no words came. She'd done it. They'd done it. Eithne avenged, Markarth avenged, Ulfric Stormcloak lying dead on the floor and it was over, all over at last. Madanach tore his eyes away from Ulfric's body to look up at her. Dragonborn, assassin, mage... and going to be his queen.

 

Silver eyes met gold and then he was in her arms and they were kissing, hands all over each other, fingers in each other's hair, backing up until they hit the table and then Madanach was perching on it, holding Liriel to him, kissing her for all he was worth and honestly if they'd been alone, just the two of them, they'd have been hard at it on Ulfric Stormcloak's table while his body cooled behind them.

 

Sadly for them both, Tullius had picked himself up by this point, with a little help from Rikke, and coughed rather pointedly.

 

“Excuse me, Dragonborn, but we do have a city to set to rights – are you and the Reach-King quite done?”

 

Liriel let Madanach go, blushing and hastily patting her hair back into shape. Madanach pushed himself off the table, amused at her embarrassment. Altmer, always so unwilling for anyone to see them actually demonstrate that they had animal instincts like the rest of the world. Not that he exactly wanted to show Liriel off to the world in _that_ way but all the same, it still amused him.

 

Argis was also back on his feet, helmet off and looking so proud of the pair of them, and that was a sight to warm Madanach's heart, seeing his son smile again. _My boy is happy again, I have a_ son _again._ Liriel stepped back to talk to General Tullius and Legate Rikke, leaving Argis to speak with Madanach. His eyes were glistening as he wiped at the corners.

 

“You did it,” he gasped, smiling despite the tears rolling down his cheeks. “You did it!”

 

“We really did,” Madanach replied, closing his eyes and finally feeling his daughter's ghost laid to rest, a caress of his hand and a kiss on the cheek and a whispered thank you and knowing she was at peace in the Void now. His daughter avenged and his son able to be his son again – while his family could never be what it had once been, it was healed at last. Argis stepped forward and then the two men were embracing, tears rolling down both their cheeks as two warriors who rarely gave in to their more vulnerable emotions finally let them go.

 

“Love you, Da,” Argis whispered in his ear. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

 

“What, for treating you like you weren't mine for twenty years?” Madanach said, voice muffled as he rested his head against Argis' shoulder, and how in the name of Anu had the boy got so damn tall??

 

“It's alright,” Argis gasped. “It's OK. You did what you had to. You were protecting me the only way you could. But it's OK now, your first wife's dead, you're king, and you did it, you killed Ulfric, you avenged Eithne, you...” Argis had to stop there, choking on the tears as he held his father close. Madanach patted him on the back, knowing that of all of them, Argis was the only one who understood, the only other survivor of the day things had fallen apart. Now, by the grace of the old gods and his Queen of Dragons, he'd finally been able to put his family back together.

 

“Liriel did it,” Madanach said, letting Argis go, and turning to look at Liriel, who'd been watching them, tears in her own eyes but happy smile all over her face. “Thank her, I'd never have done any of this without her.”

 

Argis let his father go and the next thing Liriel knew, Argis had pulled her into a bear hug.

 

“Anything you ever need from me, anything at all, you just say the word, Reach-Queen,” said Argis roughly. “There aren't... there aren't words... just... _thank you._ ”

 

“You don't owe me anything,” Liriel whispered, hugging him back. “You're my friend and you always will be. You just go be happy with Elisif and you give her a hug from me and tell her we sorted Ulfric out.”

 

“I will,” Argis said softly, letting Liriel go with a kiss on the cheek. “She'll be pleased to hear that. Listen, I'm heading back to the camp, never was one for victory speeches. I'll see you two back there?”

 

Liriel and Madanach both promised they would, and let him go. Outside the city was quiet – frost magic was being cast, but to put fires out, not kill, and Liriel could see kneeling Stormcloak soldiers being watched by unsmiling Legionnaires. They'd taken Windhelm for the Legion. Rikke was kneeling by Ulfric's corpse, saying a last goodbye, while Tullius was already ordering his soldiers in to deal with the bodies and get the place cleaned up.

 

“I should probably stick around for the victory speech, Tullius will want to give one. So should you,” Liriel said, squeezing Madanach's hand.

 

“Stick around or give a speech?” Madanach asked. “I haven't actually written anything, I hope you weren't expecting bardic oratory.”

 

Liriel laughed and kissed him. She'd never loved him more than she had today. Killing a man together apparently had that effect, who knew?

 

“You could come up with a speech off the cuff and it would still be an inspiration to us all,” Liriel teased. “I saw you in Markarth after the battle, you were amazing!”

 

“Yes and it took me weeks to write,” Madanach growled, pulling her closer. “I was still obsessing over it that morning.” He stopped, smile softening his features. “So you were there in the audience, were you? Was it you who shouted 'we love you, Reach-King'?”

 

“Afraid not,” said Liriel, not sure how to tell him the one responsible was a deserter from his army who apparently still carried a torch for the cause. “Hoping it was me?”

 

Madanach hesitated then lowered his head. “Part of me hoped you were there,” he admitted. “I missed you, Dragon-Queen. I wished you'd been with me. I will never forget it as long as I live, but I would have loved having you there to share it.”

 

Liriel placed her forehead against his, holding him tight. “I wish I'd been there too. I wish I'd been with you on that balcony. I was just watching you and... and I fell in love all over again. I was just so proud of you. Still am.”

 

Madanach didn't answer, just looked up and kissed her again.

 

“Come on,” he said gruffly, taking her hand and leading her out. “Back to the camp. If you're going to insist on showering me with compliments, we're going to do it in private.”

 

Liriel smiled, squeezing his hand. That was her Madanach all right – capable of dealing with anger, fear and fury but pay him a compliment and he had no idea how to react. That was all right though. There'd be plenty of time to celebrate. They'd won a great victory tonight. Nothing could touch them now.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The camp was quiet when they finally reached it, just as the sun was coming up. Outside, the dead of the Reach were being laid out on pelts, weapons and possessions arrayed around them while their friends and kin gathered around to say goodbye. In the distance, a slow, heavy drumbeat was thudding out across the plain and aside from the sobbing from those mourning loved ones, all was quiet. No singing, dancing, celebrating, nothing. It all seemed a bit unlike what Liriel had come to know about the Reachmen, whose usual way, according to Madanach, was to celebrate that they weren't dead yet.

 

“Is everything alright?” Liriel whispered. “Only... we won, right? Shouldn't there be a party in progress right now?”

 

“Yes, and there isn't,” Madanach said, frowning. “Respect for the dead is all very well but they're outside the camp, and the camp's quiet... I don't like this, Liriel.”

 

Liriel looked around, starting to quietly panic. Something was wrong, had they been betrayed or... no, the camp was peaceful, not burning, ReachGuard were just wandering around, seeing to the dead or comforting each other or getting on with what needed doing. But Liriel did notice something – that hushed conversations would fall silent as soon as they saw her or Madanach, and then there would be momentary looks of horror-sadness-guilt- _pity_ and then they'd look away. Madanach had noticed it too, and he was neither unobservant nor a fool.

 

“What in the Void is going on?” he whispered, hand reaching to his axe. Everyone in range looked away, slinking off or trying to look busy, no one wanting to meet his eyes.

 

“Madanach...” Liriel began, and she reached for his shoulder, but Madanach had broken away, striding, almost running forward to where he'd seen a little trinity of Uraccen, Duach and Odvan all waiting for him.

 

“Uraccen, what happened, what's going on?” Madanach's eyes fell on the black armband around his arm. “Oh no, not Uaile, I'm so sorry...”

 

“She's fine,” said Uraccen, and there it was again, that pity in his eyes when he looked at Madanach. “It's... you'd better come with us.” He held out a hand and started to lead Madanach out into where the dead were laid out. Madanach didn't follow, eyes looking at all three of his blood-brothers.

 

“You're all wearing them,” he whispered, looking frantically around the camp. “Every single one of you, you can't all have lost people, you can't...” Madanach's voice broke as he realised the significance of an entire people in mourning. Mourning a leader – or a member of the leader's family.

 

“No,” he breathed, and Liriel felt her heart stop as she realised it too. _But Argis was fine, he was with us, the battle was over when he left... oh. Oh no._

 

“No, she isn't, she can't be,” Madanach gasped, voice harsh and ragged, hands to his temples. “Not again, not again, where is she?? _Where is my daughter??_ ”

 

Uraccen looked out over the morgue, and sure enough, out on the edge, on a raised escarpment overlooking the rest, four ReachGuard warriors were standing guard over one body separated out from everyone else, a body with an ebony-clad warrior kneeling next to it, clinging on to a red-haired Forsworn in a jester hat.

 

“Kaie,” Madanach breathed, face crumpling as it sank in. “KAIE!” Without even looking at Liriel or anyone else, he was racing towards them, everyone in his path moving without even needing to be told why. Liriel followed after, heart in her mouth, her own heart breaking as her mind started to process just what this all might mean for her... but mostly her heart was breaking for Madanach.

 

He'd reached them by now, taking in Argis kneeling there with tears rolling down his face and Cicero nestled in his arms, sobbing helplessly on Argis' shoulder... and before them Kaie, laid out on a bearskin, eyes closed and arms folded, peaceful in death aside from the gaping wounds in her chest and abdomen that had killed her and the gashes on her arms and legs.

 

Madanach dropped to his knees, wordless.

 

“Kaie,” he whispered, fingers trailing over her face, feeling the skin cold and unmoving, forever unmoving now. “Kaie, daughter, no...” Then his voice broke completely, and the feared King of the Reach, commander of the Forsworn, was bent low over his daughter's remains, cradling her body in his arms, sobbing his heart out and not caring who saw him.

 

Liriel knelt alongside him, rubbing his back, tears on her own cheeks because she'd liked Kaie too, cared for her a great deal, she missed her too. But mostly it was because the man she loved, strong, all-powerful, buzzing with magicka Madanach, was currently howling his grief out for the world to hear, utterly broken. Slowly, gently, she prised him away from Kaie and held him, soothing him as best she could.

 

“Madanach,” Liriel whispered, kissing the top of his head. “Madanach, I'm here, I've got you, it's...” _Not all right, it'll never be all right again, but I love you, I'm not leaving you again, never..._

 

Argis let Cicero go, moving to sit on Madanach's other side, arms around them both, and then Cicero was snuggling in against Liriel, whimpering that he was sorry, so sorry, he couldn't save her but he'd seen her killers dead, he'd murdered them all and brought Kaie back to camp. Of course he had, sweet, loyal, brutal Cicero, he must have visited the Wrath of Sithis on them all. Madanach didn't answer, but he did ruffle Cicero's hair which probably meant he approved.

 

“What now?” Liriel finally asked as Madanach's tears subsided. “We'll... we'll have to have a funeral, won't we?”

 

“Tonight,” Madanach whispered. “All these things... best done at night. Someone... her kin need to keep vigil until then, I'll need to stay out here...”

 

“Like the Void you will,” Argis cut in, and Liriel had never heard him talk like that before, never heard him sound anything like that authoritative. “I'll do it. You get to bed. Liriel, take him to his tent.”

 

“I'm her king and her father, _I_ will do it!” Madanach snapped, looking up and now that was more like it, a glimmer of his old self coming back.

 

“You're nearly sixty, you've not slept, you're exhausted, go to _bed,_ ” Argis shot back. “I am her brother and Crown-Prince until you can produce a legitimate heir, I will do the damn vigil with Cicero here.”

 

Cicero squeaked quietly but didn't make a single ribald remark. Argis was still staring down Madanach, neither really willing to give in over this but someone had to and in the end it was Madanach.

 

“Fine, mabion. Watch over her. Do what I couldn't.” He choked on the last words as his eyes fell on Kaie and then he was getting up, looking away, face screwed up in pain.

 

“Madanach, wait, I'm coming with you,” Liriel gasped, and Madanach did at least stop and wait while she got to her feet, leaning in to her as she held him.

 

“Liriel. Don't leave me,” he gasped.

 

“I won't,” Liriel whispered. “Not ever.” Madanach let out a sob as he clung on to her, holding her for a moment, before loosening his grip, arms round her waist and head resting on her shoulder, usual aura of command utterly gone, just a man craving comfort. Comfort best provided in private without an entire camp watching from the corner of their eyes, feeling their king's pain but at the same time glad it was not them.

 

“Come on,” she told him. “Let's get you to bed. Argis was right, you need sleep.”

 

“No sleep will ever mend this,” Madanach whispered, but he acquiesced as Liriel led him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. I really am. Poor Kaie. Poor Madanach. Poor Cicero and Argis and everyone. See, this is why I didn't want to write it. But it is done and Kaie rests safely in the Void.
> 
> Next chapter, a Forsworn funeral and everyone deals with the aftermath.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Kaie's funeral and Liriel's there to help Madanach through it. But Madanach's not just a father mourning a daughter, he's a king who's lost his heir, and the consequences for Liriel are nothing short of devastating...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, the writer's block is broken. I could hardly leave you all hanging after that ending, could I? Don't put the tissues away though, this chapter's also rather emotional.

Not a word from Madanach as Liriel led him back to his tent. Not a word as she led him to the bed and laid him down on it, letting her undress him, unresisting and silent, eyes dead inside, and that was what scared her the most, the silence. Rage, tears, she could have handled all those, but this just wasn't like him. She remembered Argis telling her how Madanach had just given in and surrendered to the Nords after they killed Eithne and she couldn't picture it at the time... but now she saw it perfectly. His little girl was dead and nothing else mattered. Now it had happened again, and something inside had died with Kaie. Liriel hoped it wouldn't be permanent... but he'd been twenty years younger when Eithne died, still had a cause to fight, still had three other daughters and Argis. Now... it didn't look good but Liriel had to hope.

 

She shed her own clothes, pleased to note a flicker of something in his eyes as he watched her – not entirely dead then. He reached out to her as she slid into the bed alongside him, pulling her into his arms and kissing her with as much ferocity as he always had. Then he let her go, going limp in her arms and shuddering quietly.

 

“I can't... you're beautiful but I can't... I'm sorry...”

 

“Don't,” Liriel whispered, holding him to her, caressing his back and kissing his forehead. “It's alright. You just lost your daughter, you don't have to...”

 

Madanach just shook his head, clinging on to her and crying quietly. Tears in her own eyes, Liriel held him, pulling the covers over them both, holding him close until he finally fell asleep.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Hours later and Liriel woke up to find Madanach spooning with her from behind, erection pressed up against her as he kissed her neck.

 

“Cariad,” he breathed into her ear. “Cariad, we killed Ulfric.”

 

Liriel closed her eyes as his hand slid up to her breast and while she wanted to, oh gods, she wanted to, she wasn't sure this was such a good idea. On the other hand, him taking pleasure in anything was an improvement, surely?

 

“We did,” she whispered, turning to face him and she knew as soon as she saw his face that he'd not forgotten who else had died either, but he needed to feel something, anything, and better her than Skooma, she supposed.

 

“Please,” he murmured, placing little kisses on her cheek. “Please, let me... I need to... need _you_...”

 

“All right,” Liriel whispered, leaning back and letting him crawl on top of her. Madanach moaned her name as he slid a hand between her legs and Liriel closed her eyes, gasping as fingers touched and caressed her gently, a lot more gently than she was used to from him. He was whispering her name, forehead pressed to hers, shivering as she pressed him to her and then his fingers left her and he was inside her, moaning as he moved, holding on to her and saying her name like a litany, a chant against ill luck, a plea to a goddess who might be able to heal him.

 

Even a Dragonborn Archmage Listener's power had limits. But she'd do what she could. She let him fuck her, crying out as he moved inside her, kissed him as if their lives depended on it, and if it was gentler sex than they usually had, it was no less emotionally charged.

 

“Love you,” Madanach whispered in her ear, sounding as if his heart was breaking. “Love you so much, will always love you, Liriel, oh Liriel.”

 

“Madanach,” Liriel gasped, closing her eyes. “Love you too.”

 

He cried out as he came, thrusting inside her before collapsing in her arms, shaking and clinging to her. Liriel held on to him, soothing him as best she could.

 

“Are you all right, cariad?” she whispered. Silence then a shake of the head.

 

“No. Of course not. Kaie...” He stopped, choking back a sob and it was some moments before he could finally speak again.

 

“Thank you,” he told her. “For this. For everything. For my kingdom. For loving me. For talking me into seeing sense over Argis. Thank you.” He kissed her, putting what felt like all the passion he'd ever felt into it, then lay back, seeing fading daylight outside and guessing sunset wasn't far off.

 

“Well then,” he said, trying to sound matter-of-fact and failing horribly. “I suppose we'd better go lay my daughter to rest.” He covered his eyes, looking away, taking a moment to compose himself, before finally getting out of bed. Someone had left a bowl of water and clean towels for them while they'd slept and Madanach cleaned himself and got dressed without a word. Liriel followed, pulling on her Shrouded Robes, the hood down out of respect. She'd brought enough death in them before now, may as well attend a funeral in them.

 

“Should warn you, it could go on a while,” Madanach told her. “Kaie was a popular girl.”

 

“I don't mind,” said Liriel quietly, wrapping her arms around him from behind as they stared out at the western horizon. Madanach placed a hand over hers, squeezing it tight.

 

“You'll be there, won't you?” he asked, and Liriel hated hearing him sound that needy and plaintive. She'd always loved his strength and confidence, even in the face of adversity – to hear him like this now broke her heart.

 

“I'm not going anywhere,” Liriel whispered, kissing him on the cheek. She got a sad little smile in response to that.

 

“Come on,” Madanach said, taking her hand and leading her out. “Let's go see off my daughter.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Torches had been lit at the corners of Kaie's pyre – her body was laid out on a heap of wood, cleaned up, wounds sewn shut, arrayed in her Forsworn gear, weapons replaced with wood and stone Forsworn gear – presumably her ebony and glass ones were considered a bit too valuable to send to the afterlife with her. Argis and Cicero were still there, Argis looking pale and exhausted with shadows under reddened eyes, and Cicero sitting next to him, eyes wide and fixed grin on his face despite the tears glittering on his cheeks.

 

“Listener, Listener, they came and tended to sweet Kaie, doesn't she look lovely, Listener?” Cicero babbled, and probably only the tears rolling down his face saved him from Madanach trying to strangle him – as it was, Madanach sank into one of the two empty seats at Kaie's head, shutting his eyes and hiding his face.

 

“Yes she does,” said Liriel softly. Kaie had never been the type for pretty dresses or femininity – life as a Forsworn warrior had left little time for that. But she was attractive and if you just looked at her face, you could be forgiven for thinking she was just sleeping – if you ignored the stitching lower down and the blood already mottling her back and arms. She gave Cicero a hug, whispered for him to be quiet during the ceremony and went to sit next to Madanach. All across the morgue, torches were being lit, highlighting the Reach's war dead laid out to rest.

 

“They'll all be having their rites tonight,” Madanach murmured. “But one of the perks of being king is that we get to go first.” Hollow laugh at that.

 

“What happens?” Liriel whispered, as a queue of mourners started to form, starting with people Liriel recognised from Druadach Redoubt but stretching back into the distance. Madanach hadn't been wrong, Kaie had been a popular girl.

 

“We wait... and then everyone in turn comes up to pay their respects, they say how they knew her, and share something, a memory, a story, something they learned, anything, and then they cast a flower petal over her.” Madanach indicated three baskets of flowers by the pyre, and many of the mourners had brought their own. “Hope you've got something to say, cariad, you're fourth.”

 

“Fourth??” Liriel whispered, starting to panic. What was she supposed to say, she'd not known Kaie that long! Not long enough to share stories or build memories. Mara help her. Still, the words would come from somewhere. They usually did.

 

“After me, Argis and Cicero,” Madanach said quietly. “Don't worry, no one's expecting a saga. Just keep it short, we've a lot to get through.”

 

The drumbeat that had been going continuously since Cicero had carried Kaie's bloodied form into the camp and those held in reserve realised what had happened rang out three more times and then stopped. Down in the valley, mourners stood by their own kin, but all looked expectantly up to where Kaie had been laid. Madanach closed his eyes, took a deep breath and then got to his feet, surveying the crowd.

 

“I hope you're not expecting a speech to echo down through the ages, because I didn't prepare anything,” he said gruffly, and that did get a small ripple of sympathetic laughter. Madanach smiled tightly in acknowledgement, before staring down at Kaie.

 

“No one should have to prepare themselves for their child's death,” he said, carefully kneeling down next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder and bracing himself.

 

“I knew Kaie ap Madanach,” he announced, voice carrying across the silent plain. “She was my daughter...” He stopped, taking a second to compose himself. Finally, he pulled himself together and continued. “She was my daughter and my heir, although she was never meant to be. She had two older sisters once, but the Nords took them from us and I never got to say goodbye. She did though and I know she missed them horribly. She was never supposed to be heir, but she rose to the challenge magnificently. She would have made such a good queen...” Here Madanach had to stop again, wiping tears away but he quickly rallied. “She was an invaluable source of support while I was in prison, my lifeline to the outside world. And afterwards she took care of me like a mother and nagged at me like a wife to go to bed at normal hours, eat properly, get some fresh air. I could never have done any of this without her being there.” Madanach stroked her face, trying to recall happier times. Too many and they all made him cry, but he knew what did need to be said. “She was one of the best and bravest we had, but I remember her before all that. I remember the midwife placing her in my arms at Karthspire and being told congratulations, you've got another healthy girl, and I remember seeing her there, so tiny and helpless and mine to look after and protect and I swore I'd take care of her, protect her with my life if I had to. Then I ended up in prison and never could... and now...” Madanach lowered his head, forehead pressed to Kaie's, giving up on the whole not crying business because it was clearly doomed. “M'inyeen, I'm sorry. So sorry. I love you...” He stayed there for a few moments before giving her one last kiss on the forehead, reaching for the flower basket and scattering a few petals from the blue mountain flowers over her, then retreating to rejoin Liriel, head in his hands as he wept silently, leaning into Liriel as she held him.

 

“See, told you you could come up with things off the cuff and make them sound amazing,” she whispered to him.

 

“I'd trade it for witless idiocy if it brought my daughter back,” Madanach said softly. Then Argis got to his feet, pale, exhausted, but doing this for his sister if it killed him.

 

“I knew Kaie ap Madanach,” he began nervously, glancing at Madanach as if for permission to continue. Madanach just smiled faintly and nodded for him to go on. Argis drew a breath and continued.

 

“She was my sister,” he finally said out loud, and if that drew a little ripple from the crowd who'd not entirely believed it until now, Argis ignored it. “And my friend. I used to sneak her in to see Da while he was inside. She didn't know I was her brother, but I did and I looked out for her as best I could. She -” and here he stopped, biting his lip and blushing a little. “Oh gods, this is embarrassing.”

 

“Yes, but is it funny?” Cicero queried from next to him. Argis laughed and ruffled his hair.

 

“Yeah, but – ah Void it, I'm saying it anyway, she can't hit me now. All right. Kaie always noticed how nice I was to her, how gentlemanly, and while she knew I was part-Reachman and loyal to the cause, she didn't know who'd fathered me and made assumptions. One night as I was seeing her out, she tried to kiss me.”

 

Much snickering from the crowd, and Cicero blinked then started to giggle. Madanach had sat upright by this point, crying “She never told me this!” and looking most put out, while Liriel could only place her hand to her mouth, trying not to laugh.

 

“Oh, it gets better,” Argis promised, grinning. “Obviously I had to turn her down, and she looked really confused and wanted to know why, and I had to tell her something. So, er, I told her I preferred men.”

 

Cicero actually shrieked at this point, falling back on the ground, howling in delight. Liriel was only just managing not to laugh, then she made the mistake of catching Madanach's eye. He looked at her, began to smile, and then began to laugh, wiping tears away but tears of delight this time. Liriel took his hand and finally let herself smile.

 

“It gets even better than that,” Argis grinned. “Clearly once I'd told her that, she wanted details and every time I saw her she'd ask how I was, if I was seeing anyone, and to keep her from getting suspicious, I ended up inventing a fake boyfriend in the guards. He was a tall, blonde Nord a bit older than me called Sven and...” He stopped, seeing that both Madanach and Liriel had lost it completely by this point and Cicero was actually having hysterics on the ground. Argis had to laugh himself.

 

“Yes,” he admitted. “I lied to my own sister over a period of years, spinning an entire fictitious love life to throw her off the scent. She consoled me through three break-ups, squealed with me over several new love affairs, and believed me when I told her that due to the beliefs Nords had over sex and marriage, no one must ever know or I'd lose my job and not be able to help her and Da any more. Then after nearly two decades of this, Da finally mans up and tells her the truth, and next thing I know she's down there in Markarth and the first thing she does is hit me. Entirely deserved, and I am just fortunate she forgave me and that she knew before she died.”

 

Everyone in hearing distance had broken down in laughter by this point, and Madanach had the grace to look guilty over the whole thing.

 

“I am so very sorry, son,” he finally said when he'd recovered himself. “I had no idea. You're right, I should have told her years ago.”

 

“Damn right you should, I was starting to believe it myself after a bit!” Argis cried. “I ended up heartbroken over men who _never existed!_ ”

 

That set Madanach and indeed everyone else off again, and Liriel sat back, watching Madanach actually smile again, and began to realise why the Forsworn did this – to remember the good times and laugh over them. Finally the laughter subsided and Argis turned his attention back to Kaie, face falling.

 

“Thanks, sis. Thanks for listening all that time and being a good friend, and for not actually killing me when you found out the truth. I miss you.” He kissed her on the cheek and reached for some purple mountain flowers, scattering a couple of petals over her and retreating, stopping by Madanach and Liriel.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly, looking at Madanach. He nodded, still trying not to laugh.

 

“Oh you're my son all right,” Madanach said fondly. “Inventing an entire love life and keeping the story going for fifteen years, and convincing Kaie of all people who is no fool...” He stopped, eyes falling on Kaie's form again and his smile fading. “Was no fool,” he corrected, hand over his eyes again.

 

“Da,” Argis whispered. “Da, you don't need to be here for all of it...”

 

“Yes I do,” said Madanach quietly. “Go on, go, I had a couple of bedrolls and a tent put up just behind us for you and Cicero. You kept watch all day, now it's my turn.”

 

Argis nodded and went in search of said bedroll. Liriel had a feeling he'd be back before the end, but she had to agree, he needed sleep. With Argis gone, next up was Cicero, who crawled forward, nervously crouching by Kaie's pyre.

 

“Cicero hopes no one is expecting him to top that,” he said, licking his lips. “Cicero doesn't have stories of fake love affairs and sexual exploits – he has a lot of real ones, but doesn't think they'd be appropriate.” He shot a nervous glance at Madanach who had narrowed his eyes but motioned for him to get on with it.

 

“I knew Kaie ap Madanach,” Cicero began hesitantly. “She was... she was kind to me. When poor, lonely Cicero had to run away from the Dark Brotherhood after the Sanctuary turned on him for following the old ways, and the sweet Listener Liriel saved him and sent him to safety at King Madanach's camp, Cicero knew no one, had no one, and was lonely and afraid. And then sweet Kaie saw me and liked me and looked after me and found me a bed, and then a day later took me into hers. She understood poor Cicero's needs and... and took care of them and me. Even when Liriel said it was safe to return to the Night Mother, Cicero never forgot, and when he saw her again at Markarth and she wanted someone to celebrate with, Cicero said yes, of course he did, she's – was – lovely. Cicero was with her on the balcony the day after, protecting her, making sure no assassins got to her. Cicero was with her the night before Windhelm too, and she was happy to see me, so very happy. Then there was the battle and... and we got separated in the fight... Cicero was looking for her and he turned a corner just in time to see her against four Stormcloaks, fighting but losing, and then she killed one and the others turned on her and...” Cicero stopped, not wanting to remember this and from the look on his face, Madanach didn't want to hear it either but he said nothing, just watched ashen-faced as Cicero spoke.

 

“They hit her with their battle-axes and she fell to the ground and... and Cicero went for them. Cicero stabbed them, all of them, he doesn't really remember it but there was blood, lots of it! And then they were dead and Cicero ran to Kaie but she'd lost too much blood and she just gasped my name. I told her to hang on, I'd find a healer, but she just gasped “Tell Da... sorry...” and closed her eyes. So Cicero picked her up and carried her out of the city back to camp but by the time he got here she'd... she'd gone.”

 

Everyone had gone silent on hearing this, tears on most cheeks, and Liriel guessed this was the first time he'd told this to anyone. Madanach was bent over, head in his hands, not even moving. Cicero leaned closer to her, lips brushing her cheek, tears rolling from his eyes.

 

“Cicero is sorry, sweetling!” he wept. “Cicero failed you! Cicero should have been tending to you, watching you and... Cicero should have saved you and he didn't! And now you're in the Void and Cicero misses you! You were kind to me! Nice to me! And now you're gone.” He dried his eyes and kissed her lips once. “Goodbye, sweetling,” he whispered. “You are in the Void now, with your sisters, and Cicero shall pray to the Night Mother to look after you. You killed lots and lots of people in your time, I'm sure she'll like you. And when Cicero dies, maybe he'll see you again. That would be nice. Cicero... Cicero would like that...” Unable to say any more, Cicero scattered some red mountain flowers over her and fled to where Liriel was sitting, curling up at her feet in tears.

 

“I'm sorry!” he sobbed. “Cicero is sorry!”

 

Liriel reached down and cuddled him. Of course he blamed himself. The last one to see her alive, and if he'd got her to a healer in time, who knew. Probably not terribly likely it would have made a difference – Kaie's wounds had looked deep.

 

“Cicero,” Liriel whispered, trying to comfort him. “It wasn't your fault.”

 

Cicero just howled harder and then to Liriel's surprise, Madanach reached out and patted his shoulder.

 

“It's not your fault, boy,” Madanach said gruffly, not looking at Cicero. “Thank you... thank you for bringing her back.”

 

Cicero detached himself from Liriel, flinging himself at Madanach who to Liriel's absolute amazement, actually cuddled him back while Cicero wailed all over him.

 

Finally Cicero subsided and Madanach lifted his head up to look at him.

 

“You avenged my daughter and brought her home. You ever need anything, be it a favour or just company, you can come see me at Understone Keep any time, understand?”

 

Cicero nodded, still sniffling. Madanach gave the faintest smile as he brushed Cicero's tears away.

 

“I name you blood-brother,” he said casually, as if it was no big deal, people just earned this honour every day. “Blood of my blood, whoever harms you harms me.”

 

A little whimper escaped Cicero's throat as he stared up into Madanach's eyes, and a murmur went round the assembled throng. Liriel could feel her eyes welling up. He'd just offered Cicero a home. A family, no matter what. Cicero not stuck in a Sanctuary with Falkreath people who'd ill-treated him and Eola who – well – that little mess was complicated and likely to get even more so. Cicero having somewhere to go where he'd actually be looked after and taken care of when Liriel wasn't around – that was more than she could have dreamed of, and Cicero clearly knew it too, because he turned pleading eyes on her, begging for permission.

 

“Of course you can accept, Cicero,” she told him. Cicero squeaked and cuddled Madanach's legs.

 

“Yes, yes, of course, of course!” Cicero squealed. “Cicero shall be Madanach's blood-brother and if Madanach needs anyone discreetly stabbing, anyone at all, he need only ask and Cicero shall see the matter dealt with immediately!”

 

Madanach chuckled, patting Cicero's cheek. “Not the traditional response, but it's close enough. Go on, go find Argis, get some sleep. You look like you need it.”

 

Cicero nodded, getting to his feet, a cuddle for Madanach and then another for Liriel, before scampering off for a nap. Looking at the rest of the mourners all awaiting their turn, Liriel had a feeling it would be a long night.

 

And then Madanach patted her hand and told her it was her turn. Oh. Oh gods. Liriel really wasn't sure about this. Too late now though. All eyes were on her and Madanach was looking expectant. Still, it didn't have to be lengthy, did it? Just long enough to say goodbye.

 

She made her way over, trying to ignore everyone watching her, and knelt by Kaie's side. She had no idea what to say, but she was sure she'd think of something. At least there was the traditional formula to start her off.

 

“I knew Kaie ap Madanach,” she began. “She was daughter to my lover. She was the first one I saw after getting out of Cidhna Mine, waiting there with all my things and only being a bit sarcastic over the amount of stuff I was carrying. Then I saw her again at Druadach Redoubt and she was pleased to see me, welcomed me in like I was one of her own – and in her eyes, I was. She knew by then Madanach wanted me, she saw the way he changed when I was around, and one of the last things she said to me is that Madanach had been lonely for years and that I'd come along and actually made him smile again, so I pretty much had to marry him, she wouldn't have it any other way. That's who she was to me – the one who loved Madanach as much as I did, the one who took care of him when I couldn't be there, the one who welcomed me into her family and was pleased to see her father happy again. None of us will be the same without her, not her kin, not those of us here today, or those back in the Reach. All the Reach is poorer without her. Rest in peace, Kaie. We'll miss you.”

 

Hand shaking, she reached into the basket and scattered a couple of jazbay sprigs over Kaie before returning to Madanach's side, slipping into her chair.

 

“How was I?” she whispered, risking a glance at him. He was watching her and though there were tears in his eyes, he was smiling gently at her. Taking her hand, he squeezed it and kissed her fingers.

 

“You did well,” he told her. “What you said... thank you. Kaie liked you, you know. Said you were good for me, and there's no way I'd ever be satisfied with anyone ordinary.” Sad smile on his face and haunted look in his eyes as he held her hand. “You were right about the Reach too. It's not just me who's bereaved today.” He beckoned the next one through, Borkul this time, and so the funeral went on, one after the other, all with different stories, different sides to her, telling their tales. _She was my friend, she was my lover once, she was my cousin, she was my blood-brother's precious daughter, she was my commanding officer, she was my mentor, she was my trainer, she helped me, listened to me, she took care of my abusive ex-lover for me, we never did find his cock_ (that one was delivered by a small young Reachwoman who couldn't have been more than twenty if that, who told her story then looked up at Madanach, going bright red with embarrassment, and Madanach had just laughed to hear it, said, “that's my girl” and looked altogether far too pleased with himself for words), _she was kind, she was fierce, she was fearless, we miss her, we're so sorry._ For hours this went on, and Madanach listened to it all, tears in his eyes but sitting up straight and he'd never looked so proud. Finally the last mourner had left flowers, and Kaie was literally blanketed in them by this time, barely visible under the petals. Argis and Cicero had both woken up by this time, shuffling out to listen as the night wore on, wrapped in furs and looking sleepy but proud to be there.

 

“Now what?” Liriel whispered. Madanach got to his feet, eyes downcast but ready to perform one last fatherly duty.

 

“Now we say goodbye,” he said roughly, indicating for Liriel to rise too. Everyone got to their feet, although most cleared back from the pyre as Madanach raised his hands to the sky.

 

“Kaie ap Madanach, Kaie ap Mireen, on this night we commend your soul to the Holy Void, to the embrace of Sithis and the company of your ancestors gone before you, those that have not returned. To the stars above, home of our beloved dead, may another one shine in your name tonight. When we watch the sky on future nights, we will whisper your name, all those who loved you, and know you are watching over us. And when your time comes to return to Anu's realm and rejoin the Dance, we will return with you, and we will know and love and remember you again. From the Void we came, to the Void we return. Dance in starlight, Kaie.”

 

“Dance in starlight,” came the refrain, and then fire magic crackled in Madanach's hands as he summoned power, raised his hands and then brought them down, the spell firing into the pyre and causing it to blaze into life. All across the valley, others were doing likewise, the sharing for the other war dead having finished a while ago, and only now Kaie's pyre was blazing did others feel it safe to do likewise. The drumbeat started up again, a dull, thudding monotone and somewhere a woman started to sing a lament in a tongue Liriel didn't recognise but it sounded so familiar.

 

“What's that singing?” she asked, following Madanach as he turned and walked away from the pyre, clearly heading back to camp.

 

“It's a traditional lament of the Reach for the souls of the dead,” Madanach said quietly. “It's in the old tongue. I'm not translating it or I'll just end up crying again, but it's basically singing the souls of the departed home.”

 

“To the Void. Where you came from,” said Liriel, looking up at the stars, recalling the words Madanach had lit the pyre with, presumably an old Reach invocation. “It's up there, isn't it, out in the sky. I never thought of it before, but that's like what we believe. The Aedra are up there, Aetherius is out there, that's where our ancestors are. And you think the same.”

 

“In a way,” said Madanach softly. “I don't know if there's a literal place called the Void out there or not – I hope so for Kaie's sake. But our oldest tales talk of another world that was our first home and it's out there somewhere, travelling round a distant star. A world with blue skies and seas and mountains, and only one moon, and we lived like gods there, Liriel. We didn't have magic like we do here, but we had machines like the Dwemer have to do everything for us, clean our clothes, cook our meals, sweep our floors, take us anywhere we liked, hold all human knowledge for us to look at whenever we wanted. It was paradise, Liriel. But we got too greedy, took too much, our machines changed the very weather and the world changed. So we built ships of steel and silver, great sky ships and we left and we came here, and we were all one race, not Nords or Bretons or Imperials yet. The Nords went north to their Atmora home, the Imperials went south to the jungles of Cyrodiil and we went west to High Rock and the Reach, and that's where we met your folk. Thousands of years later, and here we are, part-elven witches. I don't know if it's true or not, but we'll never know for sure so why think too much on it? All I know is we're alive here and now. So we make the most of it.”

 

They'd reached the camp by this point, and once inside the gates, the atmosphere shifted, becoming a bit more lively, more like the camps Liriel was familiar with. There were drums, flutes, fiddles in the distance, and a bit nearer, the sounds of at least one couple in a tent having a very good time.

 

“Are you alright?” Liriel whispered, squeezing Madanach's hand. He looked exhausted and at the end of his resources, but he nodded.

 

“Yes,” he sighed. “The Dance didn't stop just because Kaie's did. Life goes on, with or without us. I...” He stopped, breathing heavily as he stared at his feet. “Life goes on,” he whispered. He raised his eyes to look at her, haunted, desperate expression in them.

 

“Liriel, stay with me tonight,” he begged. “Don't leave, don't go, just come to bed with me, make love to me, let me love you any way I can. Please.”

 

A strange request – where else would she go? - but he'd just lost a loved one, it probably had made him a bit clingier than usual.

 

“All right,” she whispered, taking his hand in hers. “Let's get you laid.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

They spent the rest of the night making love, Madanach getting creative and getting her off in as many different ways as he could think of. She'd laughed and told him to slow down, they had the rest of their lives together. He'd just smiled sadly and told her no one knew when the Dance would end and so she'd given in and acquiesced to whatever he wanted. Finally they'd collapsed in a heap, exhausted, and Madanach had clung on to her like he was afraid she'd vanish. Liriel had pulled covers over them both and held him, stroking his hair and soothing him until he drifted off to sleep. Then she closed her eyes and soon joined him.

 

When she woke, it was daylight and the bed was empty. Liriel sat up, immediately casting her eyes about to look for Madanach. Where was he? Should he be left alone right now? Or did he need privacy? He was used to having people around but he was also vulnerable right now.

 

She needn't have worried. He was still there, up and dressed, sitting at his desk, brooding.

 

“Madanach?” she called, reaching for her own clothes. “Are you all right?”

 

He hesitated before answering. “Not really, but it hurts a little less than it did. I don't know if that's a good thing or not. Come, cariad, get dressed, we need to talk.”

 

Four words that never boded well, and Liriel felt all her hair start to prickle. He sounded gentle enough, but he wasn't looking at her, and all sorts of little signs from the past day started to slot together. She'd chalked it all up to grief... but perhaps it wasn't just Kaie he was mourning.

 

Liriel pulled her Shrouded Robes on and perched herself on the bed behind him.

 

“Madanach? What's up? Is something going to happen?”

 

“Happen? Oh it already happened, we just need to deal with it,” Madanach laughed bitterly. “My daughter died, and we laid her to rest in the old way, and the pyre will have burned down by now and someone who isn't me will be gathering Kaie's ashes into an urn so we can take them back to the Reach for burial at her birthplace, and a little scattered in the nearest water. Then I get on with a life that doesn't have my Kaie in it...” He stopped, head in hands and still not facing her, shuddering as he composed himself. Liriel said nothing, just reaching out to rub his back and he seemed to take some comfort in that.

 

“I lost my daughter,” he finally said, still not looking at Liriel. “I'm a father mourning a child. But it's more than that, Liriel. I'm also a king... and with Kaie gone, I don't have an heir.”

 

Liriel couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She recalled what Argis had said – he was Crown-Prince until a legitimate heir turned up. An heir ready to succeed Madanach in twenty years and all she could give him were Altmer babies who wouldn't even be adults for another fifty and no one in their right mind gave anyone under a hundred any real responsibility.

 

“But it's all right, I've been thinking about it,” Madanach continued, getting up and joining her on the bed, talking fast, all nervous energy and more than a hint of desperation. “We'll need to get married, soon, and get to working on an heir right away – well, we don't need to wait for the wedding for that. Get you pregnant, get the child born, raise it as best we can – Altmer come of age at fifty, don't they?”

 

“You're not going to live another fifty years!” Liriel whispered, heart breaking. Madanach had an arm around her, squeezing her hand.

 

“I know,” he said softly. “But Imperial law allows a wife to inherit her husband's title and land if there's no heir – Elisif did it. You'll rule after me, and you can step down in favour of our child when you feel they're ready. The only other option is Argis and his line, but he's a Nord marrying a Nord and I'm not handing my country back to them in one generation, I'm just not.”

 

“Madanach...” Liriel began, feeling her pulse race and her blood pound and her head spin. “Madanach, I – I can't...”

 

“I know it's quicker than you might have wanted but it's the only way, Liriel, please – Liriel?” He'd finally stopped and was looking up at her, going very still as he realised she was shaking all over, tears on her cheeks. “Liriel? What's wrong? I thought you wanted children...”

 

“You can't have a kingdom of humans ruled by Altmer,” Liriel whispered. “The Thalmor would be all over the place and even if they weren't, everyone else would think they were running the show. It'd be a hundred years before any child of ours was remotely ready to take over, maybe longer. And then they'd live for centuries! I thought the idea was that Reachmen ruled the Reach??”

 

“Well the Nords saw an end to that, didn't they!” Madanach shouted. “I had four beautiful little girls and I lost them all, one way or another. So I need a legitimate heir and if they can't be full Reach-blooded, I'll settle for half – we're descended from Altmer, it's better than Nord blood.”

 

“You would give your people a god-king,” Liriel breathed, because she knew that was what would happen, they revered her enough already, give them several generations of the same unageing, undying, golden-skinned ruler? It'd be the Tribunal of Morrowind all over again. Madanach didn't seem to care.

 

“I don't mind fathering a god,” he said, faint hint of a smirk on his face, and that was so very typical of him, to laugh when he'd not be the one living with it. And it wasn't just the Reach who'd suffer either.

 

“I mind!” Liriel cried. “If I have a child with you, I can never go home again!”

 

She stared at him as it hit home – if she had his child, she might as well mourn her parents now. They'd forgive her coming home in forty or fifty years having married a human who'd died – a youthful fling with a human would be ignored, swept under the rug, acted as if it had never happened, everyone made mistakes while young. But a child... a child couldn't be ignored, and she knew exactly what her staunch Thalmor mother would say to a half-blood grandchild.

 

Madanach's entire face had closed up and he just turned away, shoulders hunching.

 

“So that's it, is it. I'm not good enough for you, am I? Humans are all right for a little fun, but no true Altmer breeds with one, is that it?”

 

Oh Kynareth, no, she'd not meant it like that, not at all, she'd do it if it meant that much to him but oh gods, her family... It was a big ask.

 

“It's not like that, Madanach,” she whispered. “I love you, I'd have a child with you, but... Alinor is home and I'd miss it. Like you'd miss the Reach. My parents can turn a blind eye to a marriage that'll be ended in thirty years, but they'll have to disown me if there's a child.”

 

Madanach was still looking away, hands shaking and he looked deathly pale. “Don't say it, Liriel. Please don't. Because if you won't do it, I don't have a choice. I need to marry a Reachwoman, and not even one my own age, she'll have to be young and fertile. And while we all know it won't be a love match, you'll have to leave because no queen of the Reach deserves a man who's constantly hankering after his Altmer mistress.”

 

Liriel's heart cracked in two as reality hit home, the awful truth she'd been repressing since learning of Kaie's death, the reason the pitying looks hadn't just been aimed at Madanach. She couldn't give him an heir, not really, and if not her, someone else would need to. She'd just lost him for good.

 

Dissolving into tears, she began to cry, heartfelt sobbing, howling her grief out that after everything it had come to this, that she'd been so happy, loved him so much and she could never have him, they could never give each other what they needed.

 

“Don't,” he was saying, sounding as miserable as she did, taking her in his arms and cradling her against him, raining kisses all over her hair. “Don't cry, cariad, I love you, we can do this, please, please have my child, please, don't make me send you away, I can't do it, I can't, oh gods, Liriel, why...” He held her to him, crying himself, just the two of them weeping in each other's arms until finally neither had the energy to continue.

 

“What did I do,” Madanach whispered. “Who did I offend, what god did I upset, did I displease Sithis, is that why he took my girls? I had four of them, Liriel, four and they were so perfect and beautiful from the day they left their mother's womb. And they're all gone, I lost them all. Eithne, killed by that Stormcloak bastard. Amaleen, killed protecting her littlest sister. She'd wandered off from the camp, I think she might have been trying to get to Markarth to visit me in prison, but she was only eight, she barely knew what direction the city was in. Amaleen found her, but some Nord mercenaries found them too. Carved Amaleen into pieces while her sister watched. She'd hidden herself, the Nords never found her. But she was never the same again. She was out there for hours, cold, hungry, frightened – they say she got so hungry she ended up taking bites out of her sister's body. I don't know whether to believe that or not, but my poor girl, my little Eola...”

 

Everything in Liriel's brain came screaming to a halt as the pieces slotted into place. Eola. His youngest daughter was called Eola. Eola who Argis had looked very intrigued by and actually said she reminded him of someone, in fact he'd even recognised the name. They even looked similar. Of course, it was possible there were quite a few Eolas in the Forsworn... but Liriel had heard the story of Amaleen's death before and not from Madanach. From Eola, who despite having lost faith in the Forsworn, had never lost her faith in the King in Rags, had stared up at him in Markarth with the same adoration Liriel had felt. Eola who'd had issues with both her mother and the Matriarch of Karthspire, and now Liriel realised the two were one and the same. Eola who'd spent her childhood feeling overshadowed by Kaie – easily explained if the two were sisters. Eola who said her father was the only one who'd ever loved her unconditionally and while Liriel had thought he'd been killed, Eola had never used that word. She'd said the Nords took him, that he was gone. The Nords had killed her sisters, but only taken her father. To Cidhna Mine.

 

By Sithis, Anu and Kyne. Liriel would wring Eola's neck were it not for the fact the Reach needed its last remaining princess back. As it was, things weren't done between her and Madanach. He didn't need to go fathering another heir. He still had one.

 

“Tell me about her,” Liriel whispered. “Tell me about Eola. You never did say what happened, you didn't even tell me her name until now.”

 

“Why'd you want to know now?” Madanach asked, sounding more than a little baffled.

 

“Just tell me,” Liriel said softly, nestling in his arms. “If – if we have to part... I want to know the last piece of the story before I go.”

 

She felt Madanach's arms tighten and a kiss on her head.

 

“Well, why not, it's not like it can hurt any worse than the rest of all this,” he sighed. “All right. You know how she saw Amaleen die. Well, it changed her. She'd always been closer to me than her mother and I know Mireen resented that. Mireen was not a good woman – she blamed me for not saving Eithne, and I think she blamed Eola for not saving Amaleen, or at least being the reason she died. Either way, she took it out on Eola, and managed to combine overprotectiveness with constant belittling. The way Kaie told it, Eola always seemed to be the naughty one, the stubborn one, the one who talked back, the one who invited trouble. Well of course she was, she was my girl through and through. I never knew when to shut up either.” Laughter at this, every word shot through with pride and really Liriel had to wonder how she'd not seen the relationship before. “Anyway, that's how it was and things got worse as she got older. She threw herself into her training, did really well by all accounts, was shaping up to be one of our best nightblades. Gifted, they called her. Never seen anything like it, so I heard. Better than her sister in a lot of ways. She had my gift for Destruction, her mother's Conjuration talents, could sneak like a Dark Sister, handled a blade like veterans twice her age. I was so proud, couldn't wait for her to turn sixteen, get initiated and then come do the jail runs with her sister so I could finally see my girl again. But it never happened.”

 

“She died?” Liriel asked, all the while knowing that no, she never died, she ran away. Deserted, according to Eola. A common deserter, so Liriel had thought, but no, she was the long-lost Reach-Princess. In danger of a brutal and fatal punishment, so Liriel had been led to believe. Punishment?? From the sound of it, Eola was no more likely to die a long, slow lingering death at Madanach's hands than Liriel was ever likely to. All the same, Liriel needed to make sure that Madanach would actually take her back with open arms.

 

“Worse,” said Madanach softly. “She ran away. Mireen's fault. She stopped Eola's initiations, confined her to camp, refused to let her make the sacrifice for her initiation of Sithis, and banned anyone in the camp from going near her to consummate Anu's. Said she wasn't getting recognised as an adult until she'd learned to act like one, and that meant getting married to continue the line. She'd already starting making arrangements with eligible men at other camps. Apparently Mireen doubted Eola's commitment to the cause and thought it would be best to get Eola married and pregnant as soon as possible to tie her down. Married by force and at sixteen! She was a child, Liriel, _my_ child!” Madanach was shaking as he spoke, voice harsh and furious and Liriel began to realise why he'd not mourned Mireen's death. She'd have found it hard to forgive a husband who'd try to sell one of her girls in marriage.

 

“So she escaped,” Liriel whispered, her respect for Eola shooting up. “Good for her.”

 

“She escaped,” Madanach confirmed, and that wasn't anger or resentment in his voice, that was all a father's affection and pride and Liriel knew right then that Eola's father still did love his youngest no matter what. “No one keeps one of my blood penned up. She improvised a shiv out of one of the sabre cat teeth we use for Forsworn armour, stabbed her guards in the night, stole a set of armour and weapons and fled. No one ever saw her again. I don't even know if she's alive or dead, but my heart tells me she survived. She just doesn't want to come home and after the way we treated her, I don't blame her. I'm not going to see her again, I know that. But I hope she's happy, wherever she is.”

 

“You don't see her as a deserter or murderer then,” Liriel said, hope flaring. Madanach looked at her, surprised she'd ever think that.

 

“No, why would I? She was a child, Liriel! Uninitiated. Never taken a life, never been with anyone, not started the Dance as a full adult. I'm not going to hold her to account for what she did as a child. She was alone and afraid and didn't know any better or have any other options. Because I wasn't there to look after her and stop it.”

 

Guilty, bitter, blaming himself – but not angry. Not vengeful. Eola would be safe – more than safe. Loved.

 

“What would you say if you saw her again?” Liriel whispered. Madanach didn't reply, and Liriel looked up to see tears in his eyes. “Madanach? Oh gods, Madanach, you don't have to answer that...”

 

“She was my girl,” Madanach whispered, not looking at Liriel as he clung on to her. “My little princess. All the others were born at Karthspire but not her. She was born in Markarth, in the master bedroom at Understone Keep, while I was King the first time. When she was born, I took her out to the waiting city and told her she would have everything I could ever give her, she'd want for nothing, she'd have the life I never did. A promise I could never keep. I failed her, Liriel. I loved her so much and I let her down. She needed me and I wasn't there...” He clutched Liriel to him, face buried in her hair, silent tears on his cheeks.

 

“I'm not sure I even want to see her again,” Madanach murmured. “Don't know what I'd say. How in the world I'd ever make it up to her, I don't know. I don't suppose she wants to see me again – she must have heard about me taking the Reach by now, if she cared, she'd have come back. But she hasn't so I guess she's done with us.”

 

Liriel wasn't sure whether to be impressed by his stoicism or outraged at him just giving up. She let go of him, sitting upright.

 

“Madanach, she's your daughter!” Liriel cried. “More than that, with Kaie gone she's your heir! You can't just give up on her! You have to find her. I'm not having any child of mine at constant risk of disinheritance, and nor will any Reachwoman you might marry.”

 

That did get to him, the familiar spark firing up with anger in his eyes.

 

“And where do you suggest I look, hmm? She could be anywhere! Morrowind, High Rock, Cyrodiil, who knows where she went? For all I know she went off to study magic with your lot in Alinor.”

 

“They'd never teach a human magic,” Liriel laughed. “Goes against everything the Thalmor believe.” She leaned over and kissed him, her lips meeting his as she held his face and tasted him one last time.

 

“Don't do anything,” she whispered. “Don't make any hasty decisions. Just keep yourself safe and take care of the Reach. Get your son married. Don't think about heirs or finding a bride or anything. Just leave it to me.”

 

“You're not seriously going looking for her?” Madanach demanded, not even sure how to react so defaulting to annoyance and disbelief. Liriel just nodded, smiling.

 

“I am Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, Archmage of Winterhold and Dragonborn,” Liriel replied, brimming with confidence at last. “I've got friends all over the place. I can find her, Madanach. I can get you your daughter back.”

 

“Don't make promises you can't keep,” Madanach warned her, but that was hope in his eyes, faint hope but hope nonetheless. He watched as she got up, reaching for her things.

 

“I can give you a year,” he finally said. “That's all, Liriel. I'm getting old, I can't wait forever.”

 

“I know,” Liriel said softly, shouldering her pack. It wouldn't take a year, it wouldn't even take a month if her intuition was correct. She just needed to hear the truth from Eola and persuade her to go back to her father.

 

Pausing to kiss Madanach goodbye, she left the tent, in search of Argis. Time to get her ex-housecarl's opinion, reclaim Cicero and then... then it was time to go find a princess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Forsworn funeral owes a lot to the Fremen funeral service in Dune, with a few Dothraki elements from Game of Thrones and Forsworn/Elder Scrolls lore mixed in to give it that canon feel. I hope you liked it.
> 
> Eola must be the least likely princess ever, but I have a feeling she'd go well as kin to Madanach. She's not going to tell him about the cannibalism and Namira worship though. Even Madanach has limits.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liriel tracks down Eola to find out if her suspicions are true and to break the news of her sister's death to her. Grief is hard, but the Reach natives have always believed death and life walk hand in hand, and in this case, shared grief can indeed lead to healing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another emotional one, but a lot more fun to write. I think you'll like this one. :) Very Eola-centric, understandably, but it still made me smile.

Liriel ran over to Argis' tent, hoping he was actually awake. The camp was quiet, but people were already about, finding food, finding water, and the clear up underway. They'd be striking camp today, their dead taken care of, taking everything and heading back to the Reach, Windhelm left for the Legion to deal with.

“Argis!” Liriel called, knocking on the tent struts at the entrance. “Argis, wake up, I need to talk to you!” She swept the tent flap open, not expecting Argis to have a bedmate. It was with some surprise then that she saw Argis dozing under furs, arms securely wrapped around Cicero.

“Argis!” Liriel shouted, not at all sure she should approve of this. Kaie's ashes were barely cold, Argis was betrothed for Aedra's sake! Had Argis really spent the night having sex with Cicero?!

Argis sat up, blinking, took one look at Liriel and promptly blushed, sitting bolt upright.

“It's not what it looks like!” he said quickly. Next to him, Cicero peeped out, blinking, saw Liriel and likewise sat up – from the look of it, fully dressed in his jester motley, apart from the hat which was neatly folded by the bed.

“Hello Listener!” Cicero chirped, bright-eyed. “Cicero was cold and lonely and couldn't sleep so he asked dear Argis if he could sleep next to him! He's lovely and warm, Listener.”

“Cicero...” Liriel hissed, only refraining from flexing her own lightning bolts at him because Cicero would probably enjoy it. “Get out of there at once! Argis is getting married soon!”

Cicero pouted but got up, pulling his hat on and retrieving his dagger, before picking up the bowl of water next to the bed and carrying it outside along with a mirror, presumably to shave in daylight. Liriel could only roll her eyes and venture in as Argis shook himself down and reached for a shirt.

“I'm sorry, Liriel,” Argis said, face still scarlet. “It's just he was feeling lonely and didn't want to sleep in Kaie's tent, not with all her things still there, so I said he could sleep here as long as he didn't try anything. Apart from the cuddling, he was as good as gold. Warm too. Kind of glad to have the company, if I'm honest. He's not so bad really.”

“He really isn't – well, if you're on the list of people he's not allowed to stab, that is. Which you definitely are, don't worry,” Liriel reassured him. Argis didn't look entirely convinced of this but did motion for Liriel to join him.

“What's up?” Argis asked. “Come to say goodbye? Liriel?” He looked more closely, blinking sleep out of his eyes, noticing that something was clearly up. “Liriel, what happened?”

“Madanach needs an heir,” Liriel said quietly. “Now Kaie's gone, all he has is you and he can hardly leave his kingdom to a Nord, not so soon after taking it off them. He needs legitimate heirs.”

“He wants kids. With you, I hope,” said Argis, eyes narrowing. Devoted to his father he might be, but he was also loyal to Liriel and he knew the two of them were in love. He didn't like seeing Liriel heartbroken even if, perhaps especially if, his father was responsible.

“I'd be his first choice, but Argis, I can't!” Liriel sighed. “Altmer babies grow too slowly and live too long – I'd end up being regent for decades. And then the Reach would effectively have a king or queen that would live for centuries. An elven one and don't tell me the Thalmor wouldn't love that. But if I don't do it... he'll send me away and marry a Reachwoman.”

“Over my dead...” Argis began, furious, until Liriel placed a finger to his lips.

“But he doesn't need to, does he?” Liriel whispered. “Because Kaie wasn't his only legitimate heir. She had a younger sister, didn't she, Argis? Tell me about her. I know you know. She's called Eola and she must be about twenty five or so, two or three or four years younger than Kaie, because she was born while he was King the first time. Well, Argis? Is it her? Do I have Eola ap Madanach in my Sanctuary?”

Argis went still, silent for a few seconds then lowered his eyes, giving in.

“I don't know for sure, I never met her,” Argis said softly. “But I think you might. Your Eola – she looks just like Eithne. And when she killed that werewolf... I've not seen magical ability like that in a while, not even Kaie's reflexes are that good. She's got all Da's skills, and when he was attacked, she went straight for the one who did it, not even thinking about her own safety. Takes love and loyalty to do that. I didn't say anything because I wasn't sure, but you know her better and if you think it's her too, then I agree. How'd you find out, did Da tell you?”

Liriel nodded. “He never wanted to talk about her before, it was just too painful for him. But he let slip her name and I realised... so I asked and he finally told me about her, about her running away. It all matches, Argis, everything he said about her and everything she's said about her past in the Forsworn. Eola is Madanach's child – and his heir now. She's your sister.”

Argis stared at her before starting to grin. “You and Da can still get married. Liriel, that's great! Are you going to get her? When can I meet her properly?”

“I don't know,” said Liriel, her mood darkening. “I have to get her first. I have to tell her her sister's dead and her father's devastated. Then I have to persuade her to come back to the Reach and be its Crown-Princess. I don't think that'll be an easy task. She's used to being her own woman and she treasures her freedom dearly.”

“More than she treasures Da?” Argis asked, worried. Liriel could only shrug. Eola had said she didn't envy Kaie or Madanach – but she also said how much she missed her father, and her personal loyalty to the King in Rags was unquestioned. If he needed her – she might do it.

“I don't know,” said Liriel, shivering. “All I can do is ask. But she loves him and she's loyal to me. If I tell her that her refusing means I lose Madanach for good, I think she'll do it. But I won't know for sure until I get back there and talk to her.”

“Then you'd better get moving,” said Argis, reaching out to give her a hug. “Old gods keep you, Liriel.”

“And you,” Liriel told him, hugging him back. Time to get moving indeed. The last heir of the House of Madanach awaited.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Cicero had been as manically cheerful as ever when Liriel found him, shaved, dressed, already in possession of food and ready to go.

“Listener, Listener, Cicero has bread and chicken and sweetrolls and stew! Did you want some, Listener?”

Now that he mentioned it... Liriel helped herself to a quick breakfast before telling him to get his things, they were leaving on a very important mission.

“Ooh! OOOH! Is it a contract, Listener? Is it dangerous? Will there be stabbing??” He was dancing on the spot, all nervous energy and hope.

“Sadly not,” said Liriel, patting him on the shoulder. “But it is very important. I'll tell you more about it on the road, come on.”

She waited until they were well on the way to Dawnstar before breaking the news to him. She'd expected a meltdown, a tantrum, shrieking or shocked disbelief. She'd not expected him to just lift cruel eyes up to her and smile.

“Sweet Eola is King Madanach's daughter. Yes, Listener, Cicero knows. What? Do not look so shocked. There is precious little privacy on a Forsworn camp and you cast no Muffle spell. Cicero was listening at the door and overheard you talking with Argis.”

Liriel could have throttled him but the truth was he'd always been a nosy little thing and that was never going to change. She should probably have anticipated this.

“You need to stop eavesdropping on my private conversations, Cicero!” she scolded him. “And for reference that includes any where I don't know you're listening in!”

Cicero blushed a little but didn't stop grinning. Eyes too wide. Smile too fixed.

“Yes, Eola is probably Kaie's sister, I just need to hear it from her to confirm it. Cicero? Cicero, say something. You were Kaie's lover and I know you're fond of Eola. Aren't you angry? Upset? Surprised?”

Cicero giggled again, still grinning. “Surprised? Surprised?? Of course! And yet... not. She killed Arnbjorn very thoroughly after he clawed dear Madanach. And... and when Cicero said he should perhaps leave sweet Kaie, leave Madanach's daughter be, not court his betters...” Cicero closed his eyes, smile fading. “She said to go to Kaie!” he wailed. “She is Madanach's daughter too! But she did not tell poor Cicero this, why! She gave him up, sent him away! To her sister!” He turned on Liriel, eyes blazing.

“She did not tell me!!”

“Cicero,” Liriel gasped, grabbing his shoulders. In this sort of mood, he was capable of anything and the last thing she needed was him stabbing Eola in rage. “Cicero, she never told me either and she owed me that far more than she owed it to you. You're not her lover, Cicero!”

“No!” Cicero howled. “And Cicero never will be now! Cicero liked Eola! She was his kind! Not a princess going to marry someone else more deserving! Except now she is! Eola has to go to Madanach and be a princess or the Listener's heart will be broken! Cicero was going to gather flowers and meat and bring them as a gift for sweet Eola! Now... now there is no point!” He clung on to Liriel, sobbing in her arms. Liriel held on to him, stroking his hair as he wailed. Poor thing. He'd just lost Kaie for good and now he'd found out Eola was out of his league. Doubly heartbroken. But Eola wasn't dead and she did seem genuinely attracted to Cicero. There was hope.

“You still could,” Liriel whispered. “Cicero, Madanach named you blood-brother. Kaie explained it to me once, it's like being Thane except more so. It's the highest honour a Reach-King or Queen can grant, it makes you part of his family, his inner circle. If there's no agreed-on heir when a monarch dies, the blood-brothers and sisters fight amongst themselves to be the next ruler – the one who the others are willing to pledge fealty to or who can defeat them in battle takes over. It's not uncommon for them to marry the blood heirs of a king or queen. Kaie thought she might have to marry Odvan or Duach one day to cement their loyalty. If Madanach died tomorrow... you could be in with a shot at the throne, you know. If you're willing to stab or threaten the others into submission.”

Cicero went bright red and dissolved into laughter, hysterical howls and mad cackling taking him over as he slapped his thigh and sank to his knees, holding himself and rolling around in the snow, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Humble Cicero!” he howled. “King of the Reach! Ahahaha! AHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!!! HEEE!!!!! That is funny, Listener, that is hilarious! Putting foolish Cicero in charge of anything! HEEHEEHEE!!!! Now that really is madness!”

Liriel couldn't honestly disagree there. Cicero was quite dangerous enough as it was, giving him subjects? Didn't bear thinking about. If Liriel was honest, Eola in charge of an entire country wasn't a lot better, but at least she was sane and had a fairly good idea of who she could get away with executing and eating.

“Well, it's a good thing Madanach still has an heir, isn't it?” said Liriel, staring Cicero down as he dried his eyes and pulled himself together. “But she's been gone for a decade. She's not had the years to make the friends, contacts and allies Kaie did. She'll need help, Cicero. Kaie might have been able to put off the whole marriage question – Eola won't be able to. She'll need internal alliances and fast. She'll need a consort sooner rather than later.” She stroked Cicero's cheek, smiling. “Why not one of her father's blood-brothers? And the one everyone's a little bit afraid of, and with good reason.”

“You think Eola should marry Borkul?” Cicero said, confused. “Cicero doesn't think Eola wants an Orc in her bed. On her plate, possibly.”

“Not Borkul!” Liriel sighed. “You! Everyone knows you're Dark Brotherhood, everyone knows you dealt with Igmund, everyone knows Madanach's fond of you and you're loyal to him, and everyone knows you're hard to beat in a fair fight. Madanach's last daughter, married to Madanach's Laughing Dagger, Cicero Jarl-Killer himself.”

All things Cicero had genuinely been called by various members of the Forsworn before now – back in Druadach they'd dubbed him Garra-Lann, the Knife who Laughs, and Liriel had yet to meet any of them who didn't respect his skills. He'd been able to walk into a Forsworn camp and been greeted as an old friend, fitting right in. He'd be invaluable as a consort for a newly-arrived and unsure of herself Reach-Princess. Most importantly of all, Eola already liked him. It was just a matter of persuading Cicero to do something about it.

“Me?” Cicero whispered. “Married... to Eola? Oh but Listener, I can't, I can't! Mother needs me, I can't just stop being Keeper!”

“Then we'll take her with us!” Liriel sighed. “I'm marrying Madanach if I can, don't forget. Easier for us all if I can have the Night Mother in Markarth somewhere. That way you can tend her once a week and keep an eye on her when Eola doesn't need you, hmm? I was thinking of setting up a Sanctuary in the Reach anyway with Eola leading it. Why not have the Night Mother there too?”

Cicero stared at her dumbstruck. 

“Listener would do all that... for me?” he whispered. Liriel nodded, patting his shoulder.

“Yes, but not just for you. For Eola too – she's our beloved sister, isn't she? And for Madanach too. And... and because it has to work out or Madanach won't marry me and then I'll be sad. You don't want me to be sad, do you, Cicero?”

Cicero shook his head. “Oh no, sister, Cicero would never want his sweet Listener to be sad or unhappy! Listener must marry Listener-husband, Cicero will court sweet Eola, we move Mother to Markarth and everyone is happy!” Cicero clapped his hands, delighted with the way this had turned out. “Thank you, Listener! You have made Cicero happy, so very happy!” He skipped up to her, hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. “So Cicero could bring Eola meat and flowers after all?”

“Maybe it's a little too soon for the flowers,” Liriel said. She didn't fully understand humans but even she knew that right after Kaie had died was a bit too soon for Cicero to start courting Eola. “But she'll never turn down meat.”

Cicero danced with delight, scampering after Liriel, cooing and singing to himself about cooking and grilling and frying Fair Nelly to fill his sweet Eola's belly. Then an unfortunate Nord highwayman decided it would be a good idea to attack the Altmer warrior-mage armed to the teeth and her singing jester companion.

“Oh look, Cicero,” Liriel purred, drawing Dawnbreaker. “The meat just turned up.”

“Dinner time!” Cicero squealed, drawing his own weapons and charging in. Maybe Liriel was bringing Eola less than welcome news about her family... but she could at least sweeten the blow for her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Dawnstar Sanctuary was quiet, most of its inhabitants either asleep or out on jobs – Liriel had had a steady flow of work coming in since killing the Emperor, it wasn't unusual to have half the Sanctuary away from home at any one time. Fortunately Eola wasn't one of them – while she'd not wanted to join the battle, she'd still wanted to stick around to find out how it had gone and had limited herself to smaller jobs not too far from the Sanctuary. 

She was still up, dressed in her Shrouded Armour, sitting alone in the kitchen, reading to herself. Appropriately enough, it was Madmen of the Reach. 

“Eola,” Liriel called out softly, voice echoing out around the Sanctuary's stone walls. “Eola, we're back.” Behind her, Cicero padded behind, dropping his pack off near the alchemy lab and retrieving the wrapped package containing several fine cuts of Nord, in need of defrosting but ready to go once that had been done. He didn't say anything, hanging back nervously, staring wide-eyed at Eola.

Eola closed the book, turning to look at Liriel, hopeful smile on her face.

“Hey, cariad, you're back, how'd it go? Liriel?” She saw the sorrow on Liriel's face, smile vanishing. “Liriel, what's wrong, what happened? We didn't...”

“Ulfric's dead, don't worry,” said Liriel quietly. “We won.”

Eola shook her head, hand to her mouth. “You're not celebrating. What happened? Who died? Oh gods. Oh gods no, he's not...”

“Madanach's fine,” said Liriel, really not sure how to approach this but Eola was no fool, she clearly knew something was up. Best just to tell her. “Eola, I'm so sorry but... Kaie's dead. She was killed in the battle. We had her funeral last night.”

Soft laugh from Eola, who was shaking her head slowly.

“No,” Eola whispered. “No, she's not. She can't be. She...” Eola's eyes flicked from Liriel to Cicero, who was sniffling quietly behind Liriel, and Eola's face fell, hands going to her face as she bent low in her seat. 

“Stupid she-daedra,” Eola gasped. “Stupid troll-faced she-daedra, what did she go and do that for?? She's not meant to... she's meant to be the responsible one, she's meant to be Queen one day, the Reach needs her! Da needs her! I need -” She stopped, letting out a sob. “Kaie, you stupid bitch, you can't be dead, you just can't.” Then Eola was crying, the predatory cannibalistic murdering Daedra-worshipper losing it completely and if it had broken Liriel's heart to see Madanach unhappy, it was downright weird to see Eola in tears.

“Eola...” Liriel whispered, all suspicions confirmed, but it was Cicero who pushed past her, racing to Eola's side, flinging the frozen cuts of Nord onto the table and kneeling at Eola's feet.

“Sweetling, sweetling, don't cry, don't cry, Cicero is here, oh sweetling, come here.” He was cradling her in his arms, holding her and rubbing her back, soothing her gently as she clung onto him, bawling her eyes out into his jester shirt. Liriel wondered if she should perhaps leave them to it, but Eola's tears finally subsided and she slowly looked up, defeated.

“You know, don't you,” she said quietly. Liriel nodded, hoping she looked sufficiently sympathetic.

“Madanach finally let your name slip and I realised,” Liriel said quietly, coming to kneel next to Eola, who was digesting this, working out what it all meant.

“Does he know I'm here?” Eola asked, looking away, looking as if her world had come crashing down. Liriel shook her head.

“Didn't want to get his hopes up. But he knows I'm out looking for you. He misses you, Eola.”

“Does he,” Eola whispered. “Is that why it's taken all this time for you to even find out from him I existed?”

“Don't say that, it's not like that!” Liriel protested, hand on Eola's back. “He adores you! He has no idea if you're even alive, he thinks that even if you are, you're done with the Reach, done with him. He thinks you don't care, that you've forgotten about him, that he'll never see you again. He doesn't know you were in the crowd at Markarth screaming 'All Hail the Reach-King', he doesn't know you helped me kill Matriarchs because you knew he wanted it, he's got no idea it was you who went for Arnbjorn after he got mauled. He doesn't know you're still his little girl at heart.”

“He thinks I'm a deserter,” Eola whispered into Cicero's shoulder, still clinging on to him. “Knew it.”

“No!” Liriel cried, appalled. Dear gods, Eola really thought that? She really hadn't been lying, it seemed. “Eola, he doesn't think that at all! He told me what had happened, you ran away because your mother tried to force you into marriage after you had entirely understandable reservations about joining an unwinnable war after what happened to your sisters. He thinks it's his fault, that he's to blame because he was in prison your entire childhood and couldn't do anything to stop it! Eola, the father who you said was the only one who never judged you, who loved you no matter what – he still does. He never stopped. You've still got him. If you want him.”

Eola closed her eyes and then she was crying again, heedless of anything as Cicero mewled and fussed over her, tears in his own eyes and Liriel finally took matters into her own hands and put her arms around the pair of them, holding them both to her as Eola sobbed her heart out. It seemed like a long time indeed before Eola's tears finally subsided.

“Can I go to bed?” Eola whispered. “I can't – I can't deal with all this right now, I just can't.”

Of course not, it must be midnight by now at least. They could all do with sleep by this point. 

“Come on,” Liriel said, helping Eola up. “Let's go to my room. Bed's big enough for all three of us. Don't think you should be alone tonight.”

Eola nodded and let Liriel lead her off. Cicero lingered long enough to store the meat somewhere safe before following in their wake.

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Liriel tucked Eola up in bed before spooning in behind her, Cicero snuggling in on her other side. Eola had stripped out of her Shrouds, exchanging them for a night shift, and both Liriel and Cicero kept themselves relatively covered. Eola needed comfort, nothing else, and she curled up into a ball, crying herself to sleep as they held her. 

It was many hours later by the time any of them woke up, exhaustion and grief wearing them out. Liriel opened her eyes as Eola climbed out of bed, reaching for her clothes.

“Eola?” Liriel asked, wondering if she was really all right. Almost certainly not, but much like her father, she was more than capable of faking it if she had to.

“What?” Eola called back. “Need something, Liriel?”

“No, just wondered if you were all right,” Liriel said, acutely aware of how stupid that sounded but what else did she ask under these circumstances?

“No,” Eola said quietly. “Not really. But there's not much I can do, right? Kaie's dance might be over, but I still have mine.”

That sounded so much like something Madanach might say, Liriel could have cried. As it was, she held her composure, just about.

“Cicero brought you some meat,” Liriel told her. “A Nord highwayman. It's in the pantry if you're hungry.” At the mention of his name, Cicero stirred, poking his head above the pillow and blinking adorably up at them both. Eola actually smiled to hear that.

“Bless you both, you're the sweetest little murderers I've had the pleasure of knowing,” Eola purred. Cicero went a little bit pink but grinned to hear it, and stayed cheerful as he watched Eola leave.

“She likes me!” Cicero cooed to Liriel, eyes shining. Liriel ruffled his hair. 

“I think so too, but you're still mourning Kaie, remember?”

“I know,” Cicero said quietly, lowering his eyes. “Cicero misses Kaie, and Eola is not her sister, Cicero knows. But Eola spoke truly. Our dance did not end because Kaie's did. Cicero could be happy with Eola.”

“I think so too,” Liriel whispered, pleased to see Cicero looking hopeful again. “Just give her a bit of space and time, hmm? Besides, Madanach's not going to be pleased if you crawl straight from one daughter's bed into the next, is he?”

Was it Liriel's imagination or did Cicero look ever so slightly eager at the prospect of an angry Madanach?

“Oh no, Listener, never Listener,” Cicero giggled. “Madanach would be furious with naughty Cicero, very very angry indeed. That would be...” He caught Liriel's eye and swiftly wiped the smile off his face. “Awful,” he said quickly. “Absolutely awful. Cicero shall do nothing, make no advances, not until a decent interval has passed anyway.”

“Good, you keep it that way,” Liriel warned him, reaching for her Shrouds. She knew humans reacted strangely to grief, but even so, there were limits. Fortunately, Cicero didn't argue, just pulling his motley on and skipping off to the kitchen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Eola was tucking in to the meat Cicero had brought her, apparently quite cheerful – on the outside anyway. She was laughing and joking with the rest of the Sanctuary, and it was almost as if she'd never been hurt. Liriel debated whether to say anything then decided not to. It was Eola's business after all. 

It was only after dinner was finished that Eola tracked down Liriel, taking her aside for a private conversation. 

“So you're not here just to break the sad news of my sister's passing to me, are you?” Eola said quietly. Liriel shook her head. Eola was no fool and had grasped what Liriel initially had not.

“Madanach needs an heir, doesn't he,” Eola said, more than a touch of bitterness to her voice. “And you want me to go to Markarth and be it, don't you.”

“I'm afraid so,” Liriel sighed. “I know it's probably the last thing you wanted, but I don't have a choice. I can't give him an heir – any child I have wouldn't be an adult for years after he dies and the Reach does not need a century or more of Altmer rule. Doesn't need the bloodbath that would result from his blood brothers all claiming the throne in the absence of an heir either.”

“Blood brothers,” Eola laughed, her voice hollow. “He has blood brothers. I imagine I'll end up marrying one, won't I? That's usually what happens when there's a child of one sex and blood brothers or sisters of the other. Da's joined the Empire to stop external enemies taking over, but there's always internal Reach politics, isn't there?”

“You might have to, yes,” Liriel admitted, patting her arm. “But not for a while and he'd never force you, you know that. Besides, if you want a respected blood brother of your father at your back, there's one who likes you already.”

That did get Eola's attention. “Yeah? I didn't know I knew any of them, who...?” She followed Liriel's gaze, eyes falling on Cicero and her eyes widened. “No! Really? Since when?”

“Since the funeral, Madanach did it as a way of thanking him for avenging Kaie and bringing her remains home, but they love him in the Reach. Garra-Lann they call him, the Knife That Laughs. And Jarl-Killer, but no one's officially meant to know he killed Igmund so they keep quiet about that one. The Forsworn think he's a hero, Eola. No one with a brain would put him in charge of anything, but you walk into Markarth with him at your side, that popularity will rub off. Eola, if you want Cicero, he's yours. Just wait a decent interval, that's all.”

“He's... a blood-brother of my father,” Eola gasped, shaking her head. “Cicero Garra-Lann! Holy Namira, that's adorable.” Her smile faded a little as she dropped her eyes. “I don't suppose I can just order him into my bed, can I?”

Liriel shook her head. “I think there'll need to be courtship first. And you're both still mourning your sister, don't forget.”

“I know,” said Eola quietly. “Speaking of which, must be nearly sunset by now, right? I take it they'll inter her ashes in the old way, buried at her birthplace and some scattered in the river, right?”

Liriel confirmed that had been Madanach's plan.

“They'll have done it by now in that case, it doesn't take that long to get back from Windhelm and the funeral was two nights ago now,” said Eola thoughtfully. “Liriel, can you and Cicero meet me on the beach outside an hour after sundown? There's something I need to do.” 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

When Liriel emerged from the Sanctuary, Cicero at her back, Eola was waiting, dressed in her Shrouds, kneeling by the waterline, staring at the stars. In her hand, she was clutching a handful of nightshade.

“What are we doing?” Liriel asked, curious. Another Forsworn funeral custom? Or a Reachwoman's way of saying goodbye?

“I never got to go to the funeral,” said Eola softly. “Never got to share my story. Never got to say goodbye. But you two are here to bear witness, and you both knew her. You'll do.” She straightened up, brushing her hair back behind her ears and began.

“I knew Kaie ap Madanach,” Eola intoned. “She was my sister. And my rival. And sometimes... sometimes my friend. Eithne was the one I idolised, Ama was the one who looked out for us both, but Kaie was the one I played with. Sometimes we fought. Sometimes we argued. Kaie could never understand why I just couldn't buckle down and put up with Ma like she did. She'd not seen them kill Ama, she didn't get it, I don't think. At least, I didn't think that at the time. Now, I'm not sure. Now I think perhaps she got it more than I did. She was the one who stayed. The loyal one. The good girl. The perfect princess. A hard act to follow and I... what am I next to that?? I saw her at Markarth leading troops, I saw her on that balcony looking like she was born to be there! When we were little, I thought she was weak for just going along with everyone's plans for her, but the woman she became wasn't weak at all, she was a true Queen in waiting. And now she's gone and it's my turn and... and I'm scared! I don't know what I'm doing, I didn't pay any attention to any of it as a kid and then I ran away and spent my entire adult life doing whatever I felt like and none of it's prepared me for a damn thing! Kaie, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I was such a bitch to you as a teenager, I know Ma didn't care but you were trying to help in your own way. I was the one too stupid to listen and now you're gone and... and I'll never be able to say sorry. I'll never be able to ask you for help. It's just me now, me and Da, I guess and I don't even know... He's a stranger now, Kaie. A handsome, charismatic, powerful stranger who's King of the Reach, but he's not the man who'd sweep into camp, pick me up and tell me stories or swing me round in the air so I could pretend I was a dragon. That man loved me. I think the King of the Reach is going to be horribly disappointed. But I don't have a choice. I wish you were here, Kaie. I miss you so much. You were right. I was wrong. Now I've got to try and be a Forsworn princess without you. It's not gonna be easy. This is your road I'm walking, not mine. But life and death chose other paths for us. I hope the old gods knew what they were doing.”

Eola wiped the tears from her eyes and got up, casting the nightshade flowers onto the ocean waves, watching as they drifted away.

“From the Void we came, to the Void we return,” Eola whispered. “Dance in starlight, Kaie.”

“Dance in starlight,” Liriel said softly, coming to stand next to Eola, putting an arm around her. She'd guessed right. Eola wanted to say goodbye.

On Eola's other side, Cicero had sidled up, snuggling next to her and the three of them stood that way for some time in silence, just watching the stars. Finally Eola broke away, heading to where her pack was waiting. She'd packed everything she owned.

“You're going somewhere?” Liriel asked, starting to panic. Eola couldn't run away! She was needed in Markarth! She needed to be Madanach's heir so he didn't have to marry a Reachwoman.

“Yeah,” Eola sighed. She saw the stricken look on Liriel's face and smiled. “I'm not running away, don't worry. Da's still getting his heir. You don't need to worry about my line turning up to disinherit your baby one day.”

“That's not what I was worried about,” Liriel whispered. Eola frowned a little, then her eyebrows shot up.

“You were afraid he'd send you away and marry someone else? Oh cariad, he wouldn't do that, he loves you...” Eola's voice died away as she saw the look on Liriel's face, the tears that Liriel refused to cry but that would come spilling out if Eola pressed that point. “Wait, did he say he'd do that?”

“He didn't want to, but he said he wouldn't have a choice if I didn't give him heirs,” Liriel said brokenly. “Then when I found out about you... Eola, please. I don't... I can't...”

Eola moved forward and then she had her arms round Liriel, comforting her and holding her tight.

“Liriel,” Eola murmured. “Champion of Namira. Don't worry, cariad, don't worry. He's going to marry you, don't you worry about that.” She let Liriel go and stood back, sad little smile in place. “Giving up my freedom's a big deal for me, I hope you realise that. But for you, I'll do it. Just let me go on one last hunt, one last contract. I took the Maluril job off Nazir, it's not far and on the way. When that's done, I'll head down there, turn myself in, see what he's got to say. I hope you're right about him missing me, Liriel.”

“He does,” Liriel breathed, remembering the hope in Madanach's eyes as she'd said goodbye. “He loves you, I promise.”

Eola laughed, kissed Liriel on the cheek and turned to Cicero.

“Well, Cicero, this is it. Next time you see me, I'll be a princess.”

Cicero laughed nervously, but his heart wasn't in it, in fact he was trembling. Suddenly he pounced on her, clinging on to Eola and sniffling into her shoulder.

“Eola must take care,” he managed to say. “Eola must stay safe and be happy and if Eola is not happy...” He let her go, staring into her eyes, looking very serious for once. “Eola must write and tell Cicero. Cicero will not leave you alone with the silence, waiting for a voice that never comes. Cicero is your brother. Cicero will not leave.”

“I know,” said Eola. She kissed him quickly on the cheek and broke away, shouldering her pack and without looking back, ran towards Dawnstar. Liriel and Cicero watched until she was out of sight, and it was only then that Cicero collapsed in Liriel's arms, sniffling all over her.

“Cicero,” Liriel whispered, not sure what to say to him. “She'll be all right, her father loves her.”

“Love?” Cicero gasped, his voice ragged and harsh. “Love is not chaining your beloved up, not unless they like chains. Eola was not made to be a prisoner.”

“She's just like her father then,” Liriel said quietly, holding Cicero tight. “She'll be all right, she will! We'll give her a few weeks, listen out for news that she's been officially made heir, then we'll go see her. Don't worry, Cicero. Between the two of us, we can take care of her. We're not abandoning our sister.”

Cicero tightened his grip on her Shrouded Armour. “Never,” he growled. Liriel ruffled his hair, starting to smile. She couldn't bring Kaie back, she couldn't birth an heir for him herself... but she could send Madanach his youngest child. Maybe Eola was scared, but Liriel knew her better than she realised. The Reach was going to be just fine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
Two weeks. Two weeks since Kaie had burned and Windhelm had fallen. Two weeks since returning to Markarth and a city poised for victory celebrations had become a city in mourning.

Two weeks of constant whispering and looks and speculation, because he was a king without heirs and the whole Reach knew it. Had Madanach gained his kingdom only to lose it?

He'd said Liriel could have a year, but he wasn't sure he could stand a year of this. Not the rumours, the gossip, not the filthy looks Argis was getting from some of the Forsworn and definitely not the unofficial approaches to Nepos from families with eligible young daughters all wondering if the Reach-King was keen to get right on with replacing Kaie.

It didn't work like that. Madanach missed her more than he could even find words for. Many was the time he'd gone to look for her without realising, or stood in the doorway of her room and just stared at it, willing its occupant to come home. They'd already cleared her personal effects out, the weapons and armour to the armoury, everything else into storage. He'd not been able to face doing it himself.

Kaie was meant to have been in charge of the Forsworn, commander of his military. Uraccen had taken the job instead with Duach as second-in-command. All well and good, but factions were starting to form and Madanach had a horrible feeling that once he died, Duach, Odvan and Uraccen might well tear the Reach apart in the resulting fight for power. About the only other option was declaring Argis heir, but Madanach had a feeling he'd be signing the boy's own death warrant if he did that. Best to let him go to Solitude, marry Elisif, be happy there. Someone might as well be. It wasn't going to be him.

It was in this frame of mind that Madanach retired to his bedroom, the grand master bedroom of Markarth's Jarls and now he had it, he wasn't even sure he wanted it. He'd rather have Druadach Redoubt as home and Kaie in the next tent over. I miss you, daughter. I'd trade all this away to bring you back to life. I should never have taken you to Windhelm, I should have listened to Nepos, left you here... oh Kaie.

He closed the door behind him, leaning back against it, resisting the temptation to sink to the floor in a little ball and howl at the unfairness of it all. As it was, he was having a hard time keeping it together. At least, he was until he glimpsed movement, a flash of black and red cloth in his chair, facing the waterfall, heard the sound of someone else breathing and by Sithis he wasn't alone.

Mage armour sparked into life around him and lightning crackled into his hands.

“Who are you,” he growled, grief forgotten. “How did you get in here?”

“Oh, don't blame your guards, no one sees me if I don't want them to,” a woman laughed, and while the accent was a Reach one, it wasn't quite like the rest of the Forsworn. Softer. Less rough edges. A bit more cultured, with hints of Cyrodiil and High Rock and even Morrowind, as if the speaker had travelled. She got to her feet, dressed in the Shrouded Robes of the Brotherhood, the hood hiding her face, but she was about three inches shorter than him and from the look of her, young but not inexperienced. A Dark Brotherhood assassin and a skilled one, but not one of those from Falkreath... or was she? Madanach recalled hearing how Liriel had had another recruit at her side when killing Drascua, not one of Astrid's but one of hers, and Madanach vaguely recalled that Nord werewolf dying in agony as a woman in Shrouded Armour had shocked him to death then shoved a sword into his chest in a move that would have done any Forsworn proud. Was this her?

“Did Liriel send you?” Madanach asked warily. The woman stood facing him, faint smile just visible under that hood. She nodded once.

“It's not a contract, is it?” Madanach asked, fairly certain it probably wasn't. Liriel would take no contract against him, but if she ever did, she'd probably see to it in person. The woman shook her head.

“No,” she whispered, voice catching in her throat. “No, I... I heard you lost your daughter. I was told you needed an heir.”

Now things had just got very weird indeed, although Liriel had always been a pragmatic sort and sending a Reachwoman Dark Sister to be surrogate mother was the type of thing she might think of. All the same, he preferred being consulted on this sort of arrangement first. 

“I just lost my daughter, I'm not taking another wife just yet,” he growled. “Or a concubine, for that matter. Out with it. Why did she send you?”

Laughter that was almost a sob. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

“Should I?” Madanach asked, but his instincts were nagging at him, something telling him he should know this woman, and then he remembered what Liriel had said she'd confidently be able to do. Surely not, it hadn't even been a month...

It can't be. You can't be alive, here, come home, you can't...

She'd not replied, just staring at those muffled shoes of hers, shoulders hunched and arms folded as her earlier confidence died out of her. As if she feared his reaction. 

“Show me your face,” he whispered. “If we know each other, show me your face. You could be anyone under there.”

Slowly, she raised her hands to her hood and as it fell back to reveal dark blonde hair just like his had once been, Madanach felt his mouth go dry. He saw her face, and blind eye with the war-paint that hid scars but only made the injury more visible aside, he saw Mireen there, Keirine as a young woman, his own features too, but more than anything, he saw Eithne. The image of his firstborn, come home.

She was breathing deeply, almost gasping for breath, as she raised her eyes to his. Madanach stepped closer, own breath catching in his throat, sure this wasn't real, it couldn't be, not Eola come back to him...

“It can't be,” he whispered. “Surely not...”

She nodded slowly, putting a hand to her mouth, tears in her eyes.

“It's me,” she breathed. “Daddy, it's me, I came home...”

There were tears on her cheeks and Madanach's own vision was starting to blur as he reached her, hand raised to touch her face. She actually did sob at that, leaning into his hand.

“She found you,” Madanach gasped, barely able to believe that Eola, his Eola, had finally come back to him. He'd still got a daughter. Still got an heir. Got his little princess back. “Liriel actually found you. Eola...”

Eola nodded, dissolving into tears, and Madanach pulled her into his arms, holding her to him, kissing the top of her head and clutching her to his chest, afraid to let her go in case she ran away again. 

“I'm sorry,” Eola sobbed, clinging on to him. “I'm so sorry.”

“Daughter,” Madanach gasped, knowing his own tears were flowing and not caring. “You came back. You're not... you're not dead.”

Eola shook her head, still weeping. Madanach could barely believe it. She'd heard, she must have heard the news, all of it, he'd hoped she might, wondered constantly but decided she didn't care any more or she'd have come to see him, surely? Now she had, and she clearly cared because here she was, sobbing all over him like it was her fault. Gods, never, none of it, didn't she realise that?

“You came home,” he murmured, kissing her again. “That's all that matters. You're here and alive, that's the important thing, the only thing. Cariad, cariad, you're home now. It's all right. I've got you.”

“It's not all right!” she sobbed. “I ran away! And – and Kaie's gone and I never got to...”

Never got to say goodbye? Or that she was sorry? Madanach didn't know a lot about how Kaie and Eola had got on, they'd not really talked about it much, but while Kaie had had a lot of anger towards Eola for running, he'd seen enough to know that the anger masked a deeper hurt. Kaie had cared about her little sister even though she'd disapproved. Seemed the feeling had been mutual.

“I don't blame you for running,” Madanach said quietly. “After what your mother did to you, I'm not surprised, in fact I'm proud of you for not taking it. We suffered enough from the Nords, we shouldn't have to put up with abuse from our own. I just wish I'd been there when you needed me.”

“You were in Cidhna Mine, you couldn't help it,” Eola whispered. Madanach could only laugh bitterly at that.

“Oh m'inyeen. I should have broken out years ago. I wanted to. Wanted to go after you, try and find you... where did you go? What happened to your eye? Have you been in the Dark Brotherhood all that time, is that how you met Liriel?”

“No, no, Liriel only recruited me recently,” Eola laughed, finally smiling. “I went all over the place, travelled the world, did a bit of mercenary work, studied at Winterhold, went to Blacklight and Daggerfall and Cheydinhal, learnt all sorts. Lost the eye in a conjuration experiment gone wrong. But I missed home, so I came back. I – I was living rough in some old Nordic ruins, living like a bandit, hunting at night so the Forsworn didn't see me. I don't know why I came back, but I guess I was hoping for news of – of you. Then the dragons came back and the Draugr in the tomb I lived in all rose from the dead and I had to run. I hid myself in Markarth, stayed out of sight, and then Liriel found me there. She went back to the ruins with me and killed all the Draugr and we've been friends ever since. Then she helped you break out and started hanging out with you and asking me all sorts of questions about the Forsworn and she turned out to be the Night Mother's Matriarch. So of course I helped her.”

“It was you who helped her kill Drascua,” Madanach whispered, not sure whether to scream at her for risking her life like that or be very impressed. He settled for impressed. He didn't want her to run away again after all. Eola nodded.

“Yeah. She comes in about a month after you escaped, saying someone very high up in the Forsworn is losing patience with the Matriarchs and wants them bringing into line and needed the children of Sithis to do it for them. There's only one person in the Forsworn who'd see the Hags as rivals and not be one. Of course I said yes. Anything my da needs, my da gets.”

Including an heir to the throne, it seemed. A talented, brave, resilient, loyal heir to the throne who could lose an eye and just brush it off as an experiment gone wrong (what had she been summoning exactly??). 

“That's very sweet of you, daughter,” Madanach murmured, stroking her hair as she nestled up against him. “Thinking of your old da like that, I'm touched.” 

He felt her laugh, fingers squeezing his upper arm, and while he might be joking on the outside, he was barely containing himself on the inside. She'd been five when he last saw her, a tiny little thing who followed him everywhere and wanted to be just like him when she grew up and wanted to be a mighty warrior-witch too so they could kill Nords together. She always had idolised him. He'd loved the attention even while he'd recalled how brutal and bloody the reality was and felt horrible about the eventual disillusionment. He'd always imagined he'd be there to help her through it. As it was, he'd been torn away from her first. 

“I didn't even think you'd remember me,” Madanach said, rather glad she couldn't see his face right now. “I thought you must have grown up, gone away and forgotten about me. I didn't think I'd ever see you again.”

Eola shook her head, finally lifting her face up to look at him, blotchy and tearful but he still thought she looked beautiful.

“How was I ever supposed to forget you?” she whispered. “You were everything to me! I loved you so much... and then you were gone. They said you'd been taken prisoner, but I never believed them. I thought you'd died, you must have done, how could anyone lock you away? Took me years to finally realise even you had your weaknesses. I didn't think I'd ever see you again either... but I never forgot.”

Madanach couldn't even talk by this point, a master speech-maker lost for words. All he could do was hold his daughter in his arms and weep for the ones he'd lost... and for the last of them returned to him, one last gift from the old gods. Kaie was gone and he'd always mourn her as he grieved for her sisters... but Eola lived and was his again. By the grace of the old gods, he swore that this time, he'd get it right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you go, a nice happy reunion to warm your hearts and console you after the angst-fest that the last two chapters were. Next chapter - Eola and Madanach are finding that all is not running smoothly as both have to start dealing with who the other actually is, not who they remember. Fortunately, Liriel and Cicero are on hand to help, and the timing couldn't be better as the Reach's politics take an unexpected turn.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There I was hoping this would be done in 20 chapters. HAHAHA ohgod. 25 then? Maybe? Definitely no more than 30.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Madanach's delighted to have his daughter back, but as predicted, Eola's finding her new life harder than she ever thought, prompting Argis to do the brotherly thing and call in Liriel for aid. Eola's problems may have to take a back seat however as Reach politics take a disturbing new turn.

 

Nearly a month after Eola had left Dawnstar. Liriel had fallen into a routine ever since, living in Solitude, finally being a proper mother to her two girls, reading them stories, playing games, taking them shopping, teaching them magic and many other things besides. At the weekends, she'd leave them with Jordis and visit Dawnstar to listen for contracts, doling them out to Nazir to deal with and follow up. She'd saved her guild and the world, others could do the work now, especially with two new initiates in the Sanctuary that Nazir had recruited from somewhere.

 

In week three, Argis had visited Solitude, stopping in to see Liriel and promptly having been mobbed by Sissel and Lucia, both excited beyond measure to see their beloved Uncle Argis again. They'd been even more excited to learn he'd be moving to Solitude permanently in a matter of months, although they'd not believed him at first when he told them it was because he was marrying newly-Mooted and newly-crowned Queen Elisif. Then he'd said the king who'd rescued them from the Dark Brotherhood was his father, and now he had his kingdom back, he needed to find a wife for his son and who better than the Queen of Skyrim?

 

“But if he's king, why isn't he marrying the queen?” Sissel piped up, a bit confused as to why a queen would marry someone who was only a prince.

 

“Because he's a lot older than Queen Elisif and thought she might prefer someone nearer her own age,” said Argis, grinning. “Also he's busy running the Reach, he can't be here all the time looking after the Queen. I can, so here I am. That and Queen Elisif's really pretty. I wasn't going to say no to that.”

 

Both girls readily agreed Elisif was indeed really pretty, and wanted to know if they could come to the wedding.

 

“Of course!” Argis laughed. “Your ma's a very important person, you know, she's one of Elisif's thanes and she saved the world and killed Jarl Ulfric herself. Of course she'll be on the guest list, and that means you two are coming too.”

 

Both girls looked at their mother hopefully, and squealed when she smiled and nodded.

 

“Of course you will, and your Uncle Cicero will be coming too, and you will get to wear pretty dresses and go to the wedding ball and meet all sorts of people and eat lots of nice food,” Liriel told them.

 

“Uncle Cicero's coming?” Lucia gasped, delighted. “Yay! I love Uncle Cicero! He's funny!”

 

It was true – Cicero had a genuine way with children and had turned on the charm with hers. He'd got on particularly well with Lucia, listening sympathetically to her complaints about Braith and soothing her with tales of horrible things that might happen to Braith and then she'd never pick on poor Lucia again. It had made her laugh, although when Liriel had gone out to the market the next morning and found out Braith's parents had both been brutally killed in the night and no one knew who by, and Braith was being put on the coach to Riften to go to the orphanage as soon as the funerals were done, Liriel could cheerfully have throttled Cicero. Right up until Lucia and Sissel had both pounced on her and whispered she was the best, despite Liriel's protestations it hadn't been her. Cicero had just sat at the dining table, grinning to himself, then patted Lucia when she'd gone to cuddle him.

 

“Sweet Lucia and Sissel should be able to walk Whiterun's streets without being beaten or robbed,” he'd purred. They'd adored him ever since.

 

“Uncle Cicero?” Argis said, raising an eyebrow at Liriel, who'd only been able to shrug.

 

“They like him?” she said apologetically.

 

“Takes all sorts,” Argis muttered.

 

“And is King Madanach coming too?” Sissel asked, ever hopeful. “He was nice, I liked him! He could do magic!”

 

“Of course he'll be there, he's my da, he's got to give me a good send-off, right?” Argis laughed, but his eyes never left Liriel. Liriel could only laugh nervously at the thought of seeing Madanach again. She wanted to, gods she wanted to. It was just awkward, that was all. He'd talked about sending her away to get an heir! And even though she'd sent Eola back to him, she still didn't know if Eola had actually turned up yet, or if Madanach had even accepted her back as his child. She needed to ask Argis, but broaching this topic was going to be delicate with the girls around.

 

“King Madanach doesn't have a queen, does he?” Sissel asked, frowning. Oh good. Trust her daughters to walk into the one topic she'd been hoping to avoid.

 

“Not yet,” said Argis, looking nervously at Liriel. “I'm sure he'd like one though. He gets lonely without one.”

 

Both girls sat up, exchanging grins, and Liriel could feel a headache coming on.

 

“Mama's not married,” said Sissel, sounding very sly and Liriel could swear she'd picked that grin up off Cicero. “Mama's one of Elisif's Thanes and very important, you said so, Uncle Argis.”

 

“And Mama's really pretty!” Lucia added. “And she does magic too! King Madanach could marry Mama! He rescued us, he must like her, right?” Both girls turned hopeful eyes on her. It was no secret that both girls had seen other children with both a mother and a father, and wished they could have the same. They'd tried to set her up with any man who'd crossed her path, and even a few women, but ever since Madanach had rescued them, he'd turned into the number one option. She hadn't even told them he'd been her lover, but somehow they'd guessed there was something there. Why else would an important king swoop in with all his soldiers and take on the Dark Brotherhood just to rescue two little girls? Why indeed. Either that or they'd decided he was perfect father material and should therefore marry their mother.

 

Liriel gave in and decided they could at least know some of it.

 

“I'm sure he does, and I quite like him too, but the fact is he's in Markarth and I'm here and he's not sent me flowers or poetry or jewellery or anything yet. So if he sends me any of that and asks me to be queen, I'll think about it but not until then. Besides, his little girl Princess Kaie died, and Madanach needs to have another one who's a Reach native like him to be king or queen when he dies. Argis can't be king because he's a Nord and I can only have Altmer children of my own. So he needs to have a queen who's a Reach native.” Amazing how much less it hurt when said as matter-of-factly as that. Both girls looked a bit disappointed... at least until Argis coughed quietly.

 

“Actually... that's not true now,” he said, starting to smile, and Liriel looked up and realised, realised Eola had done it, she'd gone home and Madanach had taken her back.

 

“See, Kaie had a younger sister called Eola who ran away years ago and no one knew where she was. Her being away from the war and trouble meant she didn't get killed, and when she heard Madanach was king again, for good this time, she came back to find out more. Then her sister was killed before Eola could get in touch with Da, but after he got back from Windhelm, she found him again. And because she's the last Reachborn child he's got, she's heir to the throne now. He made the announcement a few days ago, just before I left Markarth, and made the entire city guard and his court swear fealty to her as heir, me included. Da doesn't need to marry a Reachwoman now, he can marry whoever he likes. All he needs is for Eola to get married and have a kid or two, and he's sorted. I think he's already started to have a few enquiries come in.”

 

“She did it,” Liriel whispered, dazed. “She went back to him.”

 

“Yeah,” Argis laughed, grinning from ear to ear. “She really did. I've got a sister, Liriel!”

 

He looked like he was about to burst from sheer delight, and Liriel didn't blame him. It was going to be all right, really all right, Madanach was free to love her again.

 

“We've got an Auntie Eola,” Sissel ventured. “She does magic too. She's a nightblade. I'm not sure what that means though.”

 

“Means she can creep up on people and kill them without anyone knowing she's there!” Lucia said proudly. “And she can use magic to do it as well as swords, because she used to be in the Forsworn as a kid and they taught her lots of things.”

 

“Don't be stupid, Lucia, Forsworn don't take children, they're all scary warriors!” Sissel cried, having grown up in Rorikstead with Forsworn outposts mere miles from the village and having been told lots of scary stories about Forsworn stealing children and attacking people.

 

“Even scary warriors can have children, and Eola's parents were both in the Forsworn,” said Liriel firmly, before a fight broke out. “Children don't fight with the Forsworn, but Forsworn camps often have children living there, and Eola grew up on one.”

 

“Auntie Eola or Princess Eola?” Lucia asked, frowning.

 

“They're one and the same,” Liriel told them, watching in amusement at the stunned looks on their faces. “Your Auntie Eola is King Madanach's daughter and now his Crown-Princess.”

 

Silence and then ecstatic squealing.

 

“You have to marry him now, you have to!” Sissel cried. “If Auntie Eola and Uncle Argis are his children, that means he's family, so you have to.”

 

The things that made sense to a small child's mind, really.

 

“We're related to the Reach-King,” Lucia whispered, amazed. “Wow! Can we visit him, can we? Do you think he'll do more magic tricks for us?”

 

“Oh, I think I can arrange a trip to Markarth at some point,” said Liriel, sounding far more poised than she felt. “But he's not asked me to marry him, so as I said, until he sends the aforementioned flowers and poetry and romantic gifts and letters telling me he can't live without me, there will be no wedding. But if he does... I'll think about it.”

 

Cheering from both girls, who both promptly turned to Argis.

 

“Uncle Argis, Uncle Argis, you'll tell him to send Mama flowers, won't you?” Sissel asked hopefully.

 

“And the letters, don't forget the letters!” Lucia cried. “And a ring, there's got to be a betrothal ring, everyone knows that.”

 

“You two are aware that were I to marry the Reach-King, we'd all have to move to Understone Keep in Markarth, aren't you?” Liriel said, amused. “And that as he would not only be your stepfather but the king, you would have to do what he told you and behave yourselves. And that when I was off travelling, he would be looking after you.”

 

Not a single fade in either smile.

 

“We'd have a papa!” Lucia cried.

 

“And he'd be king and everyone would have to be nice to us and no one would bully us ever again, because no one picks on you when your papa's the king,” said Sissel, nodding sagely. Liriel's heart went out to them both. Not the wealth, not the power, just being looked after by a second parent and not being bullied.

 

“And when Argis marries Queen Elisif, we can come back and visit!” Lucia sighed happily. “Because King Madanach will want to visit his son, and maybe Queen Elisif will have a baby and then she'd have to visit Markarth with it.”

 

“That's the plan,” Argis grinned, ruffling Lucia's hair. “Elisif needs heirs of her own and she loves kids. She says she wants about seven of them, but I'm thinking two or three is probably enough. We'll see how she feels after she's had the first one.”

 

More laughter, and Liriel finally felt contented and happy for the first time in weeks. It was going to be all right, it really was. Her girls clearly liked the idea of her getting married, and honestly Liriel was running out of reasons to stay away from Markarth. She'd send Argis on his way with instructions to find out from Madanach if she'd be welcome and if their engagement was still on, then she'd retrieve Cicero from Dawnstar and make her way back there. Eola was heir, Madanach was free to marry her, her daughters were all in favour, everything was going to be fine.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Two months after Eola had left for Markarth, and Liriel was still in Solitude. She'd waited for Argis to go back to Markarth, and then waited to hear from Madanach.

 

A week after Argis had left, three of the ReachGuard showed up at her door.

 

“Brenhina,” the lead one said, bowing low. “The Reach-King sends his regards.” He held out a flat wooden box, and Liriel felt her heart skip as she recognised it. Flat, square, dragon with its tail in its mouth – she knew what was in it before she even opened it.

 

Sure enough, her torc was gleaming up at her, along with a rune-sealed card. She flicked it open and read it.

 

“ _Liriel Brenhina,_

 

_After all this time, all that's happened, you need an invitation? Very well._

 

_I love, adore and worship you. Come home, Reach-Queen that will be._

 

– _Madanach”_

 

“Mama, what is it?” Sissel had come running up, curious, and she actually gasped to see three of Madanach's soldiers there.

 

“They're from the Reach! Did King Madanach send flowers and poetry and gifts?” Sissel saw the torc gleaming in Liriel's hands and gasped.

 

“ _Lucia!_ ” Sissel cried. “LUCIA! Come quick!”

 

“What is it?” Lucia called, running down the stairs and across Liriel's front hall.

 

“Come and see, come and see, King Madanach's sent Mama jewellery!” Sissel cried. “And it's beautiful!”

 

Lucia ran over and both girls were staring at the torc, mouths open.

 

“Wow,” Lucia whispered. “It's really shiny!”

 

“He had it polished up especially for you, Brenhina,” said the lead ReachGuard, eyes still lowered in submission.

 

“So I see,” Liriel said, feeling light-headed all of a sudden. She had her torc back. Madanach loved her and wanted her. She was going to be getting married. By Sithis, she'd need a wedding dress, jewellery to go with this, everything, and what exactly did a Forsworn wedding involve anyway? She certainly hoped it didn't involve all the guests standing up in turn to share stories of how they knew the happy couple. She could only imagine what Cicero might come up with, and the last thing she wanted was Eola deciding to be truthful about how they'd actually met.

 

“Tell him I'll see him. I just need a few weeks to put my affairs in order and sort the girls out and order a dress and... oh Sithis, just go back and tell him yes, I'll marry him, expect us in Markarth within the month.”

 

Actual shrieking from her daughters who both pounced in unison.

 

“We're getting a papa, we're getting a papa!” Lucia cried.

 

“Our papa's the Reach-King!” Sissel cried, doing a little dance on the spot, and Liriel could tell that under those head-dresses, the three ReachGuard were all trying not to laugh.

 

“Also tell him I'm very sorry but it appears my two have adopted him,” Liriel sighed. “I hope he's got a good supply of bedtime stories, he's going to need them.”

 

“Will do, Brenhina,” the lead ReachGuard said, now definitely grinning. “He raised his four well enough, he'll cope with the two Rhan-Hirilai. We'll see you in Markarth soon?”

 

“You will,” Liriel promised. The ReachGuard all bowed and took their leave, presumably to tell Madanach their mission had been a success. With the door closed, Liriel sank into a chair, shaking all over while two excited little girls bounced around the room. Sissel was trying the torc on, exclaiming at how heavy it was, while Lucia had picked the card up and was reading it.

 

“What does Brenhina mean?” Lucia asked, frowning. “Is it your family name, Mama?”

 

Altmer didn't really have family names as such – their long lives and low fertility rates meant Altmer society had never been founded greatly on blood ties. Liriel had just adopted Dragonborn as her surname after coming to Skyrim, but didn't really use it much. She was just Liriel and that was how she liked it. Except now she wouldn't be, she'd be Liriel Rhan-Brenhina for the next few decades. And her children Rhan-Hirilai from the sound of it – the Aldmeri word for a high-ranking female was hiril, the Reach word could well mean something similar.

 

“Means queen, sweetie,” Liriel whispered. “I'm going to be Madanach's queen.”

 

Lucia had read the rest of the note by this time and had seen that for herself.

 

“He does love you!” Lucia smiled. “I knew it!”

 

“Of course he loves her!” Sissel piped up, still trying to keep her balance with a heavy torc around her neck. “Mama's the most beautiful lady in the whole wide world!” Both girls turned to look at Liriel, identical soppy looks on their faces as if there was no doubt in either's mind that no one was prettier than their mama, not even Queen Elisif. Liriel held out her arms to them, tears in her eyes.

 

“Come here, you two,” she sighed, pulling them both in for a family cuddle. “I love you both very much, I hope you know that.”

 

“Yes Mama.”

 

“We love you too, Mama!”

 

Jordis chose that moment to emerge from the kitchen, having heard all the excitement.

 

“Is everything all right, my Thane? Goodness, where did that come from? Is that solid gold??”

 

“Close enough,” said Liriel, taking the torc off Sissel and putting it away. “Jordis, are you going to be all right watching these two for me? I've got to get to Dawnstar right away and retrieve Cicero. Then I've got plans to put into action. Jordis, I'm getting married!”

 

Jordis actually squealed. “My Thane, that's wonderful! Who's the lucky man? Are you living here?”

 

Liriel shook her head. “No, the girls and I are moving to his house in Markarth, although we'll be back visiting, seeing as his son's marrying a Solitude girl soon.”

 

“Oh now, that's a shame,” said Jordis, smile fading a little. “I'll miss you all. Who is he? I hope he's worthy of you.”

 

“It's Madanach the Reach-King!” Sissel exclaimed before Liriel could stop her. “We're going to live in a palace!”

 

Jordis' mouth dropped open and she stared at Liriel for confirmation.

 

“It's true,” said Liriel, getting no little enjoyment from her normally unflappable housecarl sinking into a chair in shock. “He insists he's madly in love with me, so I thought I should probably marry the poor man, put him out of his misery.”

 

“Oh,” Jordis breathed. “You and King Madanach. Oh my. Well, he is a king, I suppose, and rich, and you did fight alongside him at Windhelm and they do say he's handsome in a frightening kind of way, and... you just be sure and tell him king or no king, I'm still your housecarl and if he mistreats you, he'll have me to deal with!”

 

Bless Jordis, her bravery was undeniable and her loyalty warmed Liriel's heart. Madanach would tear her apart in seconds, of course, but Liriel was fairly certain it would never come to that. Madanach was a ruthless man, but not a pointlessly cruel one and he cared deeply for his family.

 

“I'm sure he'd never do that,” Liriel told her. “He's seen me fight.”

 

That did bring a laugh from Jordis, and the conversation moved on to more cheerful topics such as wedding dresses and bridesmaid dresses for the girls and sundry other wedding related topics until night fell.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Two months and Liriel was getting ready to go. Beautiful blue and gold Alinorian-style wedding dress produced courtesy of Radiant Raiment, and some earrings to match. All her most important things packed. Cicero retrieved from Dawnstar and his worldly goods, such as they were, got together. Two excited daughters wanting to take everything with them, and having to be constantly reminded that they were going to a palace, anything they really needed would be there. Between the overprotective housecarl, hyperactive children and one hyperactive jester who wasn't helping in the slightest, Liriel was starting to feel a little frazzled. Still, she had it under control, just about.

 

Right up until a knock came on the door and Jordis opened it to find Argis there, grim look on his face.

 

“Liriel there?” he asked without preamble. That didn't sound good. Argis was normally charm itself. For him to be that brusque meant something was wrong.

 

“Argis?” Liriel asked, getting to her feet, watching as Argis shook the rain out of his hair and accepted a towel from Jordis.

 

“Liriel, thank the gods,” Argis said, striding over once he'd got most of the water off his armour. “Can we talk? In private?”

 

“Girls. Your room. Now,” said Liriel, nodding at the pair of them to clear out. Both girls pouted at this.

 

“But I wanna talk to Uncle Argis!” Sissel wailed. Oh good, this was all Liriel needed.

 

“Not now, Sissel. Later,” Liriel snapped. “Now go. Quickly!”

 

Jordis helped shepherd the girls away, not needing to be told to make herself scarce, leaving Liriel alone with Argis. She motioned for him to take a seat.

 

“What's up?” she whispered, only guessing what might have driven him up here. “Is it Madanach? Is he all right?”

 

“Yes. No. Kind of,” Argis sighed, sinking into a chair and helping himself to a bottle of ale. “It's Eola. She's... she's not well.”

 

“Not well – what do you mean, not well, she was fine when I saw her last, the woman's ridiculously healthy!” Liriel cried, heart pounding. No, no, Eola couldn't die, she needed to be heir to the Reach so Liriel could marry her father! Eola being seriously ill was not what Liriel wanted to hear! Not to mention Eola being ill and unhappy just seemed wrong.

 

“Oh she's healthy enough physically – for now,” Argis sighed. “But mentally – Liriel, she's not doing great.”

 

“What's wrong?” Liriel whispered, although in her heart she guessed the truth. Eola had sacrificed her freedom and as Cicero had predicted, it was slowly killing her.

 

“I don't know,” Argis sighed, head in his hands. “She won't talk to anyone about it. Not even me, and I thought we were getting on. She seems to trust me more than anyone else there, other than Da. She tells me I get it, and that I'm as much yours as Da's, but I don't know exactly what I'm supposed to be getting. All I know is that my little sister is dying before my eyes and I don't know what to do. Da doesn't know what to do. All Bothela's potions aren't helping. She's off her food and all she does seem to want is red meat, the rarer the better, but it doesn't seem to be enough. I don't know, Liriel. Da's beside himself with worry. So am I, so's everyone but not for the same reason, I don't think. Everyone's looking at her, when she's actually out of her bedroom that is, and they're thinking of Kaie and comparing her to Eola, and wondering how on earth that invalid's going to lead them. I think her best hope might just be getting married quickly and getting grandchildren soon – Da could live another twenty years, one of them could take over if she can't. But I'm not sure who's going to want to marry someone who spends half her life in bed crying and who barely eats. Liriel, I don't know what to do, none of us do, we're running out of options. Please help.”

 

Oh gods, Eola. It was exactly as Cicero had feared, exactly as Liriel had feared. No space, no privacy, not able to hunt or arrange for anyone to bring her food. Namira's priestess was cut off from her goddess and slowly fading.

 

“How's Madanach coping?” Liriel asked. It couldn't be easy for him, wouldn't have been anyway but if the strong young woman she'd sent him was falling apart before his eyes, it must be breaking his heart.

 

“Not well,” Argis said softly. “It was fine at first – beyond fine. I've never seen him so happy, and they were both smiling all the time. He made the proclamation, declared a public holiday, made everyone swear fealty to her as heir. She barely left his side, they were constantly with each other, holding hands, cuddling – it was almost like watching him with a new lover. They'd spend all day with each other, him introducing her to people, going over state records with her, taking her on tours of Markarth, holding court with her at his side. Then in the evenings they'd have dinner together, sitting up late in his room talking and drinking, then he'd see her to her own room and sometimes they'd keep talking there as well. Then he'd kiss her goodnight and leave her to sleep, but I know he'd sometimes slip back and just watch her sleeping, just to make sure she was really there. He didn't like being away from her for long, he hated not knowing where she was. If she wasn't in sight, he'd have guards with her, accompanying her wherever she went. By the end of the second week, she was starting to look, well, tired but I brushed it off, she was probably fine, and came up north to see you and Elisif. Then when I got back...”

 

“It had all gone wrong,” Liriel whispered. Argis nodded.

 

“Yeah. She had her time of the month, and she really had it bad apparently. Cramps, bleeding, she took to her bed in agony and nothing worked. That's when it really went down hill, she must have spent an entire week crying her eyes out in bed. When it finally stopped... she didn't want to come out again. Must have taken another week before Da finally coaxed her out and you do not want to know the amount of subtle guilt-tripping involved. When she finally did emerge, she just wasn't the same girl. All the life had just gone out of her. She just went listlessly along with whatever Da said, smiling but it was fake, we all knew it. Da bought her loads of pretty dresses and jewellery and she wore them but it was obvious to all she didn't really care any more. I've never seen him look quite that desperate and heartbroken before. Don't get me wrong, he still loves her, still dotes on her, and she just smiles back and tells him she loves him but something's wrong and we all know it. He's terrified something horrible's going to happen, that he's going to lose her. He asked Matriarch Keirine for help, but all she'd say was that his family was too small, he was putting too much on one member when he should be sharing it out, which wasn't helpful. Da's this close to losing it, he's already getting short-tempered with everyone else, and I'm worried he'll lose patience with her in the end. Her next time's due in two days, she was already frightened when I left. I'm not even sure what I'll find when I go back. Liriel, please. You know her better than we do, you shared a Sanctuary with her. Making the family bigger, all I can think of for that is having you in Markarth, having the Dark Brotherhood have a presence there and Eola joining them. Was she like this when she lived with you?”

 

“No,” Cicero growled, moving noiselessly from the shadows. “No, she never was.”

 

“Cicero!” Liriel hissed. “What have I told you about eavesdropping?”

 

“You told me not to listen in when you didn't know about it, so now Cicero is telling you he's doing it,” Cicero said, little shrug of the shoulders. “And a good thing he is too, because Cicero lived with sweet Eola for weeks at Dawnstar, and she was never like that! She was mouthy and annoying and pretty and dangerous and bloodthirsty and murderous and pretty and she liked hunting and killing and feeding and playing in the torture room and tormenting poor Cicero – not in the torture room,” he added, seeing the way Argis' eyes had widened, glaring at him in a way very reminiscent indeed of Madanach. “Just in general. With her eyes and her voice and the way her armour clung to her – Cicero didn't do anything!” he protested as Argis had actually started to growl. “Cicero had Kaie, Cicero restrained himself! But Cicero had eyes, Cicero saw, and Eola was a true Dark Sister. She is a wild creature, a creature of night and shadows, moving unseen, unheard! When she had her time of the month with us, she turned into a moody harridan until Cicero finally lost his patience and took her hunting to that necromancer den down the coast and once we'd slaughtered them all and she'd had a chance to eat, she was just fine and cuddled long-suffering Cicero and told him he was a sweet little man. Now Eola has been with her father for two months and she is falling apart?? _Cicero told you this would happen!!!_ ” He'd rounded on both Liriel and Argis, face twisted in rage and eyes bulging, and Argis had sat back down again, actually looking nervous.

 

“Cicero,” Liriel said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. He was breathing heavily, gasping for breath, shaking all over and frankly Liriel had never been more glad that she'd sent the girls upstairs. “Cicero, it's all right. We'll go to Markarth, we'll find her, I'll talk to Madanach, we'll do all we can...”

 

“IT IS NOT ALL RIGHT!” Cicero howled. “SWEET EOLA IS UNHAPPY AND SUFFERING!” He had his hands over his face, unresisting as Liriel pulled him into a hug, soothing him as he hyperventilated in her arms.

 

“We'll come,” Liriel promised Argis. “Never mind sorting the girls out, they'll have to stay here. Cicero, we're leaving tomorrow.”

 

Liriel had no earthly idea what to actually do, but maybe when she'd seen Eola for herself, had a chance to talk to Madanach, she'd get a better idea of what to do.

 

“Thanks,” said Argis gruffly. “If anyone can help, it's you.”

 

Liriel could only smile nervously and wonder how on earth she was going to manage getting a ready supply of human or elven flesh to a cannibal princess without her extremely smart and perceptive father realising what was going on. A puzzle, but something she could think about on the way to Markarth.

 

A knock on the door, and Argis looked up.

 

“Should I get that?” he asked, housecarl training taking over. Liriel shook her head.

 

“It's fine, I'll go,” Liriel said, opening the front door.

 

Of all the people she'd thought it might be, Queen Elisif with her housecarl in tow was not one of them. The poor girl was soaking wet from the rain, hair plastered to her face and clothes clinging to her but she ran inside, realised Argis was there and promptly flung herself into his arms in tears.

 

“Argis,” she sobbed. “Argis, thank the Divines, I was so worried, I -” She started crying again, sobbing on his shoulder. Behind her, Bolgeir had stepped into the room, looking a bit sheepish. Argis nodded in understanding and sat Elisif down in his chair, kneeling by her side.

 

“Elisif?” he said softly. “What's wrong? How did you know I'd be here, did the guards tell you? I know I wasn't meant to be here for another week, but something came up in the Reach, I needed to see Liriel...”

 

“Damn right something's come up in the Reach!” Elisif cried. “I just got the report from Rikke – Forsworn attacks all along the Whiterun and Falkreath borders! Rikke doesn't know if they're renegades or your father just tore up the treaty and she doesn't care, she's going to send the Legion in!” Elisif turned pleading eyes on Liriel. “Liriel please, you're a Legate, she'll listen to you! You have to stop her, you have to find out what's going on! I refuse to believe Madanach would just turn on us, he knows Argis and I are happy together! I can't not marry him, not now!”

 

Argis had gone a deathly shade of pale and Liriel sank into a chair before her legs gave way, heedless of Cicero fluttering around her. Forsworn returning to raiding Nord settlements and travellers – no, surely not, why would Madanach do that, was he insane? After all the trouble to get that treaty, why?

 

“Da never ordered this,” Argis whispered. “He's been too busy worrying about Eola, he's not had time even if he did want to cause trouble or declare war, which he doesn't. Where did you say these attacks were? Near Falkreath?”

 

“Falkreath and along the border with Whiterun up to Rorikstead,” Elisif whispered. “It's been sporadic, just travellers so far, and a couple of Imperial couriers, but the reports are saying it was Forsworn warriors.”

 

“Lost Valley,” Argis breathed, shock turning to anger. “Fuck.”

 

“Lost Valley?” Liriel asked, confused. She'd not heard of that one.

 

“Lost Valley Redoubt,” Argis confirmed. “One of the bigger Forsworn camps and controlled by one of the Big Four Matriarchs. There used to be Keirine, Mireen, Drascua and Sharreela – Keirine's on Da's side and always was, Mireen and Drascua are dead and buried but Sharreela's still strong and still powerful – her camp's a major source of Briar Heart production. She used to have Broken Tower under direct control too, although not any more.”

 

Not since Liriel had torn through there looking for the missing Sybil, no.

 

“You think she's turned against Madanach,” Liriel gasped. Argis nodded.

 

“Sounds like it. Liriel, you need to get back there, find out what's going on, if the Legion intervene, Da loses everything.”

 

Elisif clung on to Argis, crying even louder. “No!” she wept. “I can't lose you, I can't! Argis, I love you!”

 

“I love you too,” Argis whispered, kissing her hand. “I don't want to lose you either. We'll sort this out, I promise. Da'll go in there personally and raze the camp to the ground if he has to. He's gonna keep his throne, I'll still be able to marry you.”

 

Elisif shook her head, wiping tears away. “You have to,” she gasped. “Argis ap Madanach, you have to marry me. Eight months from now, I'm having your baby, you have to!”

 

For a moment, silence, as Cicero scratched his head and tried to work out if he'd heard that right, and Argis could only stare in disbelief at Elisif, and Liriel... well, there was a reason sex often got delayed until after the wedding, wasn't there? Honestly, humans. Thank the gods for potions, but Elisif had clearly not felt it seemly for a queen to be seen taking them.

 

“Oh,” Argis said faintly. “I mean, really? Are you sure?”

 

“Sure,” Elisif whispered, face scarlet. “Visited Styrr this morning, he confirmed it for me. What, he's discreet and Arkay deals with life and death!”

 

“Still weird having one god for both,” Argis said, before looking up at Elisif, radiant smile breaking out on his face. “You mean it? I'm gonna be a father?”

 

Elisif nodded, biting her lip and then Argis had swept her into his arms, saying nothing, just holding her tight. Behind Liriel, Cicero did a little dance, squealing quietly... at least until the happy couple parted and Elisif glanced up, looking at Cicero properly for the first time and narrowing her eyes.

 

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “Jarl Igmund's murderer was said to be a short red-haired Imperial who smiled too much. Very odd that you have one of those right here, Liriel.”

 

Cicero had frozen mid-caper, grin fixed in place while his eyes bored into Elisif's and Argis coughed nervously.

 

“Ah. Now, cariad, now is not the time...”

 

“Yes, quite, we have a kingdom to save and an angry Legate- no, sorry, General now, isn't it? - General to placate and persuade not to invade the Reach and then I have to leave immediately with my associate here,” said Liriel hastily. “Lady Queen, in the interests of peace and the long and happy lives of all of us, I'm thinking that maybe you could lift the bounty on Igmund's killer? Let it go, perhaps? I'll make sure you can still marry Argis, and you can do this in return as a little favour? A little wedding gift to the House of Madanach? After all, Cicero here is a blood-brother to the King, he's hoping to marry Princess Eola some day, it would politically be very embarrassing for him to be up on murder charges...”

 

Argis gave Cicero a pointed look as Liriel mentioned Eola but mercifully said nothing. All housecarls knew when to shut up.

 

Elisif kept staring at Cicero, eyes narrowing very tightly indeed, and Liriel could see Cicero's poise about to fall apart. He was about to lose it and this was not going to end well.

 

“Fine,” said Elisif and Liriel could almost collapse in relief. Cicero had also sagged against Liriel's side, all smiles again now. “Make it so I can still marry Argis without having a traitor father-in-law in the family, and I will tell the Haafingar Guard the bounty on Igmund's killer's been cleared.”

 

“Thank you,” Liriel said, smiling. “I promise I'll sort this out for you, my Queen. Come on, Cicero, get your things, you and I have work to do.”

 

“What about me, do you need me as well?” Argis asked. Once a housecarl, always a housecarl... Liriel shook her head.

 

“No. Stay here in Solitude. Look after Elisif. If this all goes Voidwards, I want you out of it. Even if your kingdom's forcibly re-occupied and your father's executed, you can still marry Elisif if you're safe here in Solitude. You're a Nord, it's amazing how people will forget your Reachman side if you marry Elisif. You can't marry anyone if you're dead.”

 

“Liriel,” Argis whispered, but Elisif's hand clamped down on his.

 

“Don't argue, betrothed, you're staying with me,” Elisif said firmly. “No sense hiding anything now, everyone knows we're engaged, you may as well stay in my room. I know you're innocent and the rest of the world will know it too. Come on, back to the Palace.” She led Argis out, leaving Liriel to sort out her and Cicero's travelling gear, kiss the girls goodbye, give Jordis a quick update and then run to Castle Dour. She had work to do.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“General!” Liriel cried as she raced into Castle Dour. “General, don't invade the Reach, I'm sure this is a horrible misunderstanding.”

 

Rikke looked up from the map of Skyrim she was examining – red flags for the Empire, and black ones all over the Reach. All marking the locations of towns or Forsworn camps, although Liriel was perversely pleased to note half the camps weren't marked. Rikke's intelligence had its limits, it seemed.

 

“Misunderstanding, is it?” Rikke snorted. “We've had the Khajiit traders attacked, a Thalmor patrol wiped out, three couriers killed and various travellers murdered, and all the survivors say Forsworn, or people dressed exactly like them, skilled in magic and using their tactics. Pretty big misunderstanding.”

 

“Rikke, please,” Liriel pleaded. “I'm sure it's not what it looks like – Madanach wouldn't have ordered this! He wants to rule his country in peace!”

 

“Peace? He has no idea what it even means,” Rikke scowled. “Look, Liriel, I know there's an understanding between you two, but you can't let it cloud your judgement. The Forsworn are supposed to be an official state force now, under Madanach's control. If he's turned traitor or even lost control of the Forsworn, we need to do something. He swore an oath of fealty, Liriel.”

 

“Legate Liriel,” Liriel snapped. “I still hold that rank even though I'm retired now. General, I agree, the Legion can't stand idle but you can't just invade, not without proof! A few travellers tales aren't proof, we need solid intelligence. General, put me in charge of it. I can get that information, I can deal with this.”

 

“You can, can you?” said Rikke, frowning. “Despite your links to Madanach. Tell me, Legate, what will you do if he really has turned on the Empire?”

 

“Because of my links to Madanach,” said Liriel. “And if he has turned on the Empire, he'll have broken my heart, Argis' heart, Elisif's heart, and there's an excellent chance his daughter will turn on him too. Princess Eola is loyal to me, not just her father, if he's turned traitor, I'm sure she'll help me supplant him and take his place. If he authorised these attacks and I don't believe for a second he did.”

 

Rikke stared back at Liriel, not convinced. Then she looked down at the map.

 

“Rugged and hard to assault terrain, they all know magic, I don't suppose I even have half his camps on here, do I?” said Rikke quietly. “And I've seen those Briar Hearts in action too. All right, Legate. You can consider yourself brought out of retirement for this assignment. Get to Markarth, find out what in Oblivion your lover's playing at, get these attacks stopped at source. Well, soldier, can you do this?”

 

Liriel saluted her. The Legion really did have a way of getting into your blood, it seemed.

 

“Consider it done, ma'am,” Liriel purred. That was the immediate disaster averted. Now to get to the Reach and find out what exactly was going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhan-Hirilai means ladies of the Reach, and it's based on a combination of Welsh, Sindarin Elvish and a made up plural form. Stands to reason Madanach would hand out titles to his stepdaughters, who I think he's going to get on rather well with. They were absolutely adorable to write in this.
> 
> Despite the summary, Eola and Madanach weren't even in this one in person. Never mind. They will be back next time as Liriel finally gets to Markarth to sort her in-laws out, Eola finally loses her temper with her father and Cicero makes his move.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liriel arrives in Markarth to find a city desperate for its Dragon-Queen to come home and a King who needs her like he never has before, more so than even he realises. But while Liriel is persuading Madanach that the Reach just might be in trouble from its own people, Cicero, left to his own devices, finds an unexpected ally in tending to the beleaguered Reach-Princess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked this chapter. I really really liked it! A nice mix of angst, romance, fluffiness, comedy and a bit of family drama sorting itself out. Eola and Madanach are back, and my god, I love writing the two of them together. They really do make a disturbingly good father-daughter pair. Warnings for references to sex while the lady is on her period, although it's not explicit.

Liriel didn't wait around after leaving Castle Dour. She paused only to collect her travelling gear and Cicero, kiss her daughters goodbye and promise to send for them as soon as it was safe, then visit the Blue Palace to say goodbye to Elisif and Argis and reassure them both that Rikke wasn't invading and that she'd sort the whole thing out personally. 

Then riding south to the Reach on Shadowmere, Cicero clinging to her back. Liriel didn't stop (apart from dealing with some bandits on the way) until she got to Broken Tower, the northern border control, and oh gods this had been one of Sharreela's camps once, what if she'd recruited it back?

Liriel needn't have worried. The border guards started to ask her name and business then saw the torc round her neck and the grinning jester poking his head out from behind her.

“Go through, Brenhina,” the woman gasped, stepping back and saluting her with a fist to the chest. “Old gods keep you and the Garra-Lann.”

“And you,” Liriel called, spurring Shadowmere onwards into the late afternoon. At least one camp still loyal to Madanach, and the patrols she saw on the road all leapt to one side, giving the same fist to the chest salute the border guards had given. Madanach was clearly still a man in charge of most of the Reach.

Most was not good enough.

Liriel finally galloped into Markarth's stables as evening fell, getting late but not unsociably so, just coming up to ten o'clock. Banning was just closing up but he stopped work as he saw who'd just ridden in, relief all over his face.

“Liriel! You're here! Thank the gods, this country's not the same without you.”

“Things are that bad?” Liriel asked, dismounting and holding Shadowmere's reins to him. Banning just sighed.

“Not bad as such but the ReachGuard keep looking at me funny, there's talk of incidents out on the border and the King doesn't seem to care. He's too busy fussing over Eola. Our Eola! His daughter and now heir to the throne. Except after the first two weeks, we've hardly seen her. Hogni's made deliveries to try and see how she is, but they say she just keeps to her room these days. Hardly anyone sees her. They say the King's obsessed with her, is keeping her prisoner. They say one of the two's gone mad but we're not sure which one it is. Liriel... Liriel, they say you were his lover once.”

“They're right,” said Liriel, fingering her torc. “Except for the fact that I'm still his lover and I'm Eola's friend. Whatever is going on, I'm going to sort it out. I promise.”

“I believe you, Champion,” Banning whispered, saluting her and leading Shadowmere away. Liriel sprinted for the gates, heart in her mouth. Everyone gossiped, Forsworn camps were notorious for everyone knowing everyone else's business, royal courts were worse. She should have come weeks ago. As it is, this whole business felt like it was balancing on a knife-edge.

The gate guards took one look and opened the doors, bowing low and letting her and Cicero in. The citizens of Markarth who were still up all stopped to watch her go by, mouths open in awe, and Liriel heard the whispers of “Dragonborn”, “Madanach's mistress”, “they call her Dragon-Queen” as she ran by. Up the winding pathway, up the steps and into the huge stone edifice that was Understone Keep, and again guards who took one look at the torc and saluted, opening the gates without even a question.

This queen business definitely had its perks, especially the look of awe in the guards' eyes as they saw her. It was the first time she'd been to Markarth since Madanach took power, and the changes were both obvious and very subtle. The stockading on the run up to the city, the stakes hammered into the gatehouse, stone melted with Destruction magic so they could be cemented in, Forsworn warriors on guard duty rather than helmeted Nords, silver banners with a crowned red eagle hanging off the gatehouse and Understone Keep balcony. Goat's heads on pikes outside all important buildings. But it was more than that. The city felt different. Calmer. Less fraught. Not a caged beast any more but an animal well fed and at ease. The festering wounds Liriel had always sensed before finally healing. Everything just felt better. Maybe Markarth by day would be different. But Markarth by night seemed peaceful.

Understone Keep also seemed much the same, aside from more red eagle banners and the Forsworn on watch, all of whom stood to attention as she ran past. The Mournful Throne was empty – well, Madanach must be in bed by now. Only it occurred to Liriel she had no idea where his bedroom was. 

Fortunately some of the servants were still up. One old Reachwoman was sweeping up in the kitchen.

“Er... hello,” said Liriel hesitantly. “I've got business with the King, where is he?”

The woman looked up and nearly dropped her broom in shock.

“Goodness! It's you! I mean, good evening, my lady.” She dropped a curtsey immediately, eyes lowered. “You'll find him just up the corridor there, either in his own room or saying goodnight to Princess Eola. That poor girl.”

“I heard she wasn't well,” Liriel said quietly, aware of Cicero creeping closer, all ears for this one. “How is she?”

“She has good and bad days,” the woman said quietly. “Mark my words, what that poor child needs is some fresh air and exercise and something to do. But you try telling the King that. After losing his others and thinking the kingdom was doomed, he doesn't like letting her go. Frets if he doesn't know where she is, and she doesn't like upsetting him. But now that you're back, Brenhina...”

The message was unspoken but the same one Liriel had heard all along: _please, Dragon-Queen, please heal our princess, please look after our King._ Mara, but she should have come back here weeks ago.

“Thank you,” Liriel said, trying to sound reassuring. “I'll go find him.” She stepped out and turned to leave, only to walk into someone as she left the kitchen. An elderly Breton, older than Madanach, bald and with a rather outsized nose. Nepos the Nose, Madanach's spymaster and steward. Liriel had never met him before, but she guessed this was him. Behind her Cicero started giggling, at least until she grabbed his shoulder in a pincer grip.

“Good evening,” she said politely. “Is Madanach around? I have urgent business with him.”

“I imagine you do, Davrha-Brenhina,” Nepos said calmly, although his eyes seemed transfixed by the torc. “Yes, I know it's you, the guards sent word and there can't be two red-haired Altmer women running around with a dragon torc in the Reach. Certainly not with the Garra-Lann in tow – yes Cicero ap Stelmaria, your description is well-known to me. Welcome, both of you. You're long expected.”

Again, that flash of relief in his eyes, and Liriel forced a smile to her face.

“It's a pleasure to meet you. Nepos, isn't it?”

Nepos nodded, faint smile on his face. “Yes indeed. Come with me, he'll be pleased to see you, very pleased indeed.” He led them up a corridor, and up ahead, standing in the doorway of a bedroom flanked by two guards, was Madanach himself, dressed in a jarl's fine outfit, circlet in place, leaning on the doorway and staring into the room. She'd never seen him look like that before, never so needy and hopeful and desperate all at once.

“Are you sure you're all right?” she heard him say, slight tremor to his voice that hadn't been there before. “Is there nothing I can get you?”

Then Eola's voice and if Madanach had sounded off, Eola sounded like a different person.

“No, Daddy, it's fine,” she said, her voice soft and trembling. “I just need rest.”

Fingers flexing on the door jamb, and Liriel could sense the frustration in his voice. “You've done nothing but rest all week!”

“I'm in pain!” Eola cried and she sounded on the verge of tears. “It really hurts, Da!”

Instant contrition on Madanach's face. “You're right, I'm sorry,” he said, sounding nervous and Madanach giving in to anyone that easily was all wrong. “I should let you sleep, daughter. You be sure and let one of the guards know if you need anything, all right?”

“Yes, Da,” came the response and Madanach just nodded, that helpless look back on his face. 

“I love you, daughter,” Madanach told her, voice shot through with need and desperation and underneath it all, absolute love and adoration mixed with a large dose of terror. Madanach was terrified and nothing scared Madanach normally, absolutely nothing. Liriel realised with mounting horror just how much losing Kaie had damaged him. Fool she'd been to think sending Eola would make it all better.

“I love you too, Daddy,” and that little-girl voice just sounded so wrong coming from Eola. “Goodnight.”

“Sleep well, cariad,” Madanach murmured, closing the door and stepping back, before placing one arm on the door and just resting his forehead there, eyes closed. Liriel felt her heart go out to him and all she wanted to do was call his name, run into his arms and never let him go.

“Madanach,” said Nepos, raising his voice only slightly. “Madanach, you have guests.”

“At this time of night?” Madanach snapped. “Who in the Void calls on anyone at this hour?? Apart from the Brotherhood of course and I'm not expecting...” He looked up, eyes falling on Liriel, first the torc and then her, face going through all the emotions from amazement to hope to disbelief to unalloyed delight.

“Liriel,” he breathed, heedless of anything else but her, just sprinting down the corridor as she held out her arms to him. “Oh Liriel.”

She stepped towards him and then he was in her arms, clutching her to him and kissing her fiercely and she had him again, her beloved Reachman hers again, by the Eight she'd missed him.

“Madanach,” she breathed as he finally let her go. “Madanach, I'm sorry, I should have been here weeks ago...”

“It doesn't matter,” he whispered. “None of it matters, you're here, you're back with me again, that's all that matters, all...” He broke off guiltily, looking back at Eola's door. Liriel reached out and turned his face back to look at her.

“I know, love,” Liriel said softly. “Argis told me, that's why I came here. We need to talk, don't we?”

Madanach nodded, pulling her into an embrace again. “I need you,” he breathed into her ear. “I don't think I can do this on my own.”

“What, be king?” Liriel asked, rubbing his back.

“No, running a country's easy,” Madanach laughed bitterly. “Parenthood now, that's what I'm apparently terrible at.”

“Oh love, it's not that bad,” Liriel soothed him. “Come on, we should get you back to your room, we can talk there, right?”

Madanach nodded mutely and took Liriel's arm in his. Behind him, Nepos coughed discreetly.

“The Garra-Lann is also here, Madanach, what should we do with him?”

“Hello brother!” Cicero cooed. “Cicero is here, look!”

Madanach tensed up, forced a smile and glanced back at Cicero. 

“Hello Cicero. Welcome to Markarth. I'm going to be busy with Liriel tonight, but Nepos will find you a bed and then we can talk tomorrow, yes? Nepos, find him somewhere to sleep, there's a bed in this city somewhere, isn't there?”

“Will do, Madanach. You and Liriel have a good night now.”

Madanach nodded and led Liriel off to his own bedchamber. Leaving Cicero alone with Nepos.

“Right, you two,” Nepos said cheerfully to the guards. “I need to have a private conversation with the Garra-Lann here, so it's about time you both went for your break. Off you go, don't let me stop you.”

“But sir, the princess,” one of the guards began.

“Will be fine,” said Nepos curtly. “Cicero and I are right here, no one's going to get past both of us. Go. That's an order from me – the king has a problem with it, the king can take it up with me.”

“Sir.”

“Yes sir.” Both guards slinked off to the kitchens, and now Cicero was really alone with Nepos, feeling a bit nervous. What exactly did the man have in mind that he didn't want Madanach knowing?

“So you're Cicero,” Nepos said, stroking his chin. “I've heard about you. Talented assassin, near unstoppable in a fight, they tell me.”

Cicero tittered nervously, blushing a little. “Cicero is very good at stabbing things, yes,” he giggled. “Did Nepos have someone in mind?”

“Not for that, no,” Nepos said with smile. “But you are Dark Brotherhood, aren't you? Like Eola was before she came here. You knew her, didn't you?”

Cicero nodded, wondering where this was going. Nepos' smile widened.

“Were you friends at all?”

Friends? Friends?? The designing little hussy had had her eyes on him since day one, and after seeing her slaughter Arnbjorn, Cicero had had to use all his willpower to resist her. It had been no use. Despite trying to keep his mind on Kaie, his traitor cock had had other ideas and many had been the night he'd crept off for a frenzied session of self-pleasure, imagining Eola writhing beneath him. Afterwards, full of guilt and self-loathing, he'd crept back and tried to avoid her, but she'd kept on seeking him out and trying to talk to him anyway. Damn her. Then they'd finally argued, had it all out and it had ended with Eola agreeing it'd never work, he should go be with Kaie. Because if he'd left Kaie because she was a king's daughter and too good for him... Eola was out of his league for the same reason. Cicero had wanted to cry when he'd realised. He'd lost more than just Kaie. But Liriel had said it could happen, he was blood-brother here, he was eligible. Cicero wasn't quite so sure, but he did know one thing. Eola needed help and he was damned if he was letting her suffer any more.

“Cicero is very fond of dearest Eola and she gave Cicero to understand she felt similarly,” Cicero said nervously. “Cicero comforted her after Kaie died. She was very upset about it.”

“I can imagine,” said Nepos, voice sympathetic but he was smiling. “Listen, Eola loves her father dearly, but there's some things a daughter just can't share with her father. She needs friends, Cicero. People she knows and trusts. I think Madanach thinks he can be all things to her, but he can't. Just as she can't be everything to him, and thank Anu Liriel turned up when she did. If you're truly her friend... yes. Yes, you'll do.” He knocked on Eola's door sharply, before Cicero could ask what he was supposed to do exactly. 

“What?” Eola called out. “That you, Da?”

“No, it's Nepos,” he called back. “You've got a visitor. Says he's a friend of yours. Name's Cicero.”

Sharp inhalation from Eola. “Cicero? What, short little red-haired guy in a jester hat?”

“That's him,” Nepos said cheerfully. Behind the door, Eola actually cried out.

“Send him in!”

“As you wish, my dear,” Nepos grinned, reaching for the door handle. He took hold of it and turned to Cicero.

“Now, I'll be out by the throne for the next hour,” he said calmly. “Come find me before then, I shall show you to a bed. If you're not there in that time, I shall assume you found one.” There wasn't an awful lot of doubt in Nepos' voice as to which bed he meant.

“But won't Madanach be very angry if he finds me in bed with his only daughter?” Cicero asked, confused. Madanach hadn't seemed to mind him being with Kaie, but Madanach's relationship with Kaie was very different to that with Eola. He'd been a lot less protective of Kaie.

“Quite probably, yes, but unless you've done something silly like violate her or something like that, there's not a thing he can do about it. Eola's a woman grown, has had her initiations, and it's about time Madanach had a reminder of that. In you go!” He opened the door and waved for Cicero to go through. Before Cicero could argue, he'd been shoved into Eola's bedroom, the door clicking shut behind him. 

Eola was there, sitting up in her night shift, blinking up at him in the light of a magelight. She looked horribly pale, and she'd definitely lost weight and she was staring at him like she could barely believe her eyes. She was also staring at him like a starving man looked at a steak and given Eola's habits, that was not comforting. Fortunately, Cicero had come prepared. 

“Sister,” he breathed. “Sister, Cicero heard... heard you were unhappy! Why did you not write, Cicero would have come sooner!”

“Couldn't get away from Da long enough,” Eola said, still staring hungrily at him. “He watches my every move and when he's not there in person, there's always guards. I didn't want to write anything down in case he saw it.”

“Would he have punished you?” Cicero whispered, coming to join her on the bed. She shook her head miserably.

“Worse. It would have broken his heart. He's trying so hard but it's not enough, none of it's enough, I've not eaten properly since I got here, I miss all of you so much, I...” She had her head in her hands, a sob coming from behind her fingers and Cicero could take it no more. He took her in his arms, holding her tight and stroking her hair.

“Hush, hush, Cicero is here,” he crooned. “Cicero is not going anywhere. Cicero will not leave you, sister. Never, no never.” He kissed her once on the cheek, feeling her shiver in his arms.

“I'm so hungry,” she whispered, clinging on to his motley. “I haven't... I need to... I can't feel Lady Namira any more, not like I used to, I'm not even that far from the shrine! I'm scared, Cicero!”

“Do not fear, my sweetling,” Cicero murmured, letting her go and reaching for his pack. They had had to deal with bandits on the way to Markarth, he and Liriel, and they'd picked out a particularly fine looking corpse to butcher and cooked the better cuts from it. These were now being presented to Eola.

“They are cold, and not rare and bloody like Eola likes her food, but Liriel did not think they'd keep otherwise and we did not wish to have to defrost them,” Cicero said hesitantly. Eola moaned at the sight.

“Redguard, you got me Redguard, didn't you?” she breathed and Cicero nodded. Eola didn't say anything more, just tearing into the food, sighing happily as she swallowed, and really no woman had any right making noises like that, not when lonely Cicero was there, right there, watching, getting harder and harder as he watched her devour what he'd brought her, oh Sithis, had she no shame? Well of course not, he knew that, had known that from the moment she'd smirked at him and called him Cutie ap Cutieson. Finally, she finished, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and licking her fingers, looking much more like her old self.

“Is that better?” Cicero asked, trying to sound caring and doing his best to ignore the erection in his loincloth and the screaming urge to leap on her. Eola nodded, eyes meeting his, and she still looked hungry for flesh but not in quite the same way.

“Much better,” she purred, and that was her, that was the scheming little hussy he remembered. Sithis, this erection of his was actually starting to hurt. She smiled up at him and shifted closer, lifting the covers. 

“Join me if you want. I could do with the company.”

Cicero heard a little keening sound coming from his throat, his cock throbbing with need, and he could take it no more. Pouncing, he leapt on top of her, pinning her down and kissing her. She gasped in surprise, but judging from the way she was spreading her legs and wrapping her arms around him, it wasn't an unwelcome surprise.

“Sithis, I missed you,” he whispered in her ear. 

“Likewise,” Eola gasped. “Gods, Cicero, you have no idea. Only... you know I'm on, don't you? Do you really want to...?”

“Yes,” Cicero growled, hand sliding under her night shift. “I _know_. I can smell the blood.” It was true, it was true, he couldn't resist the smell of blood, never had been able to.

“You're depraved,” Eola whispered, but she sounded very very pleased about the fact. Cicero could only nod.

“I'm a very bad boy,” Cicero murmured, beginning to plant kisses along her stomach. “A very bad boy indeed.”

“Yes,” Eola gasped. “Yes you are. Sweet Namira, Cicero, don't you _ever_ stop.”

Cicero didn't. Afterwards there'd be giggling and having to strip down the entire bed and change it with fresh sheets while Eola shoved the original bedding into a Dwemer chest and torched it, but inconveniences like that aside, both of them fell asleep in each other's arms with not a care in the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The door had barely closed behind Liriel before Madanach had his arms around her, saying nothing, just holding her while his head rested on her shoulder. 

“Madanach,” Liriel whispered. “It's all right. I'm here. You're not alone.”

“I think being alone rather comes with the job,” said Madanach gruffly. “But thank you.” He lifted his head and kissed her lips before clutching her again.

“I missed you,” he told her, quite unnecessarily, she could see that for herself.

“What happened?” Liriel asked, leading him to the bed and stretching out on it, beckoning for him to join her. He did so after placing his circlet to one side, kicking off his shoes and crawling into her waiting arms. He closed his eyes and sighed happily as he moved closer and Liriel, for all she was worried, wrapped her arms around him, loving the feeling of having him there again. Never again, she was never going away again, not for long anyway. He was hers and she was not letting him go again.

“I don't even know,” Madanach whispered. “She came back, I went to bed one night and she was here, sitting in my chair and waiting for me. When I realised it was her, I couldn't even speak. You found my daughter. My little girl. You sent her back to me.”

“Yes,” said Liriel quietly. “In fact, I've known her longer than I've known you – Madanach, if you'd told me her name earlier, I could have brought her back months ago. It was her who told me all about the Forsworn, what cariad meant, what this symbolised.” She fingered the torc, remembering Eola's reaction to it – entirely explicable when you knew she was a king's daughter. Madanach looked up and traced a finger along it, smiling.

“You're wearing it again,” he breathed. “It suits you.”

“If I'm going to be your queen, I should show it off, yes?” Liriel grinned. Madanach's smile broadened and he kissed her again, a long, slow, lingering kiss that left Liriel a little breathless.

“Yes,” he gasped into her ear. “Yes, please, yes, marry me.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Liriel reassured him. “It's clear you need me. But first, I need to hear just how you managed to turn one of my best assassins into a nervous wreck in two months. Eola's not exactly weak, physically or mentally. What have you done to her, Madanach?”

“I haven't done anything!” Madanach cried, frustrated, rolling away from her and lying back on the bed. “All I've done is love her, take care of her, try and look after her to the best of my ability. And nothing's ever enough. She just smiles and says thank you and that she loves me, and I'm sure she does, but I have no idea what she wants! She's my daughter and I love her dearly, but she's a stranger to me. I don't know what happened, it was going so well at first, she was interested in the Reach, in running it, was getting on with people, was actually flirting with Nepos, and she didn't seem to want to be anywhere but with me. And I didn't want her to be anywhere else. I missed her so much, all these years not knowing and she's finally here and... and nothing I do makes her happy. And here you are and you know her better than I do. Liriel, help me. What do I do?”

Liriel stroked his hair, wondering what to say. She could hardly tell him that Eola was most likely craving the flesh of the dead, could he possibly have a condemned criminal carved up and served to her? Madanach might want to spoil his daughter, but even he had limits.

“You can't make someone happy, Madanach,” Liriel whispered. “You just give them somewhere safe to make their own happiness.”

“That's what I'm trying to do!” Madanach sighed. “She doesn't seem to want any of it. Was she like this in your Sanctuary?”

“No,” Liriel admitted, remembering Eola and Gabriella trying to outcreep each other and Eola's shocked face when she lost, and Eola making Babette blood cocktails by siphoning blood off a torture room victim, and Nazir telling her off for butchering another of said victims in his kitchen and Eola just pouting and saying she fancied a midnight snack, and Festus grudgingly admitting to Liriel that the girl was one of the few people who really got Destruction magic. She'd fitted in at Dawnstar, done well there. Because she'd been able to be herself and no one had really minded or judged her. At her father's court, she was on display all the time. No wonder she hardly left her room any more, the strain must be killing her.

Madanach lay back on the pillows, looking defeated.

“I've failed,” he said quietly. “Failed as a father. Gods, Liriel, don't bring your kids here, keep them at Vlindrel, I'll get you a nanny. I don't want any more innocent lives messed up by my terrible parenting skills.”

“Bit late for that, I told them we were getting married and they were going to live here with us,” said Liriel firmly. “They've wanted a father for ages, they were delighted to find out it's going to be you. You are stuck with them.”

Madanach said nothing, just laughing softly.

“Then I apologise unreservedly. They're going to be very disappointed.”

“Don't say that!” Liriel cried. “You're a really good father, you and Kaie had a really good relationship. You loved each other, understood each other, you took care of each other! You can do the same with Eola, I know you can.”

“Can I?” Madanach asked wearily. “I had Kaie visiting me every week without fail once she came of age. She was easy to understand, she was a Forsworn witch who loved her king and her country, she was like a sane version of her mother. She was my right-hand out there and my source of support when the rest of the world turned on me. Eola's a mystery. How am I meant to take care of her if I don't even know what she wants?”

“She doesn't need you to take care of her, she's twenty five years old and spent the last decade surviving quite well on her own!” Liriel sighed. “Just let her be an adult, let her do what she wants, go where she wants. Eola's not one of life's victims.”

“Nor was Kaie and she still died!” Madanach cried, and this was it, this in a nutshell. Madanach didn't want to lose his last remaining heir, couldn't face the prospect of life without her. 

“Cariad,” Liriel whispered, drawing her into his arms. “Eola's not going to die. Not any time soon. She just needs her freedom. You're killing her keeping her locked up like this.”

“She's not a prisoner, she can go wherever she likes as long as she has guards and lets me know where she's going and when she's coming back,” Madanach protested.

“See?” Liriel sighed. “Prisoner. Eola's never had to account for her whereabouts or take guards in her entire adult life! Madanach, trust me, the last thing you really want to know is where she's gone or what she's doing.”

“But she doesn't have to be an assassin now, I can get her anything she wants...” Madanach stopped, it belatedly occurring to him that it was just possible Eola didn't join the Dark Brotherhood for the coin and comfortable home. “Don't tell me she'd rather be out murdering than being heir to the Mournful Throne.”

“Don't tell me you don't miss it too,” Liriel whispered in his ear. “Don't tell me that at twenty five years old, you would have tolerated anyone telling you what to do or keeping tabs on your every move.”

“At twenty five years old, I was murdering my way to the top of the Forsworn,” Madanach laughed, recalling the memory with a smile. “Tell me what to do? They were swearing fealty or dying. But Eola doesn't need to do all that, I got the throne for her! I've given it all to her on a plate.”

“Sweetie,” Liriel said gently. “Eola once told me the best meals were the ones you'd hunted and killed yourself. I don't think she's changed her outlook much.”

Madanach was silent, digesting all this. Finally he closed his eyes, looking anything but comforted.

“So I was right,” he finally said. “I've failed her. I can't give her anything she wants, because what she wants is what can't be given.” He looked away and Liriel could almost feel the spark dying out of him. 

“Take her away, Liriel,” said Madanach softly. “Take her back to your Sanctuary. She's still my heir, I'm not disowning her, but I can't bear to see her like this. She was happy there – so take her with you. Let her be an assassin if she wants to. Just... just keep her safe, Liriel, if anything happened to her...”

Liriel took his hand, not sure what to say but knowing what this was costing him.

“I'll take care of her,” Liriel promised. “And send her back to visit – I was thinking of setting up a Sanctuary in the Reach anyway. I could put her in charge of it, that'd keep her safer than if she was running jobs. And she'd not be far away, she could come and see you. I think she'd want to.”

“I'd like that,” said Madanach, smiling faintly. “If she can be like she was when she first got here... she was a delight to be around. I loved having her here so much. I still do, when she's happy, she just lights up the room but when she's not...”

Liriel squeezed his hand, understanding. Eola had her father's gift of being able to turn on the charm when she wanted, but it relied on her feeling strong and confident. With her connection to Namira gone, her strength would be waning fast. No, for everyone's sake, Eola needed to be back in the Brotherhood as Speaker of Reachcliff Sanctuary, only living part-time at Understone Keep and coming and going as she pleased. A priestess of Sithis and high-ranked Dark Sister would not be obliged to take orders from a king, even one who was her own father. Perhaps especially not her own father.

“Thank you,” said Madanach softly. “I'd be lost without you, you know. What did I do before I met you?”

“You sat in your cell drinking Skooma and assassinating your own people,” Liriel reminded him, and the memory of Madanach penned up like a wild beast and left to go mad reminded her that his kingdom was not as secure as he might wish. “Listen, Madanach, I didn't just come here for Eola. You're in trouble, a lot of trouble.”

That actually got a smirk. “Oh really. What did I do? Whatever it was, I'm very sorry. How can I make it up to you, hmm?”

Oh gods, Cicero's bizarre predilections were starting to infect her husband-to-be. 

“Not like that!” Liriel cried. “I'm serious, Madanach! You nearly had the Legion invading! I had to talk Rikke out of it!”

Frown from Madanach. “What do you mean?” he asked, clearly puzzled. Not know – how could he not know there'd been Forsworn border raids? On the other hand, if he didn't know, that meant he'd not authorised them. He was innocent – well, innocent of that, anyway.

“The raids!” Liriel snapped. “There's been attacks on travellers all along your eastern border between Rorikstead and Falkreath, and the survivors say it was the Forsworn! Madanach, what's going on?? Don't tell me you haven't heard of them.” 

“I've heard rumours,” Madanach shrugged. “But thus far, no actual proof it was anything other than beasts or bandits or dragons. When someone brings me proof or officially reports something to me, which no one's actually done yet, then I'll think about doing something, but with Eola the way she's been, I've really got no time for attacks that haven't even happened in the Reach.”

Dear sweet Lady Mara. She should definitely have come down here earlier. 

“Well, consider this the official report,” Liriel said tersely. “You might not think it's your problem, Rikke thinks otherwise. Rikke thinks you're behind them – either that or you've lost control of the Forsworn. Madanach, she was planning an invasion! The only way I managed to talk her out of it was by persuading her to send me to investigate. She knows it'd be costly in both lives and coin to fight you direct, so she agreed. Madanach, you have got to act or... or you won't have a throne for Eola to inherit!”

Madanach had gone quiet, that sharp mind of his ticking over, considering all this, and with Eola's wellbeing settled in part, he could finally put aside the worry and give this his full attention at last. Liriel waited for him to react and from the way his eyes were narrowing, it was clear he didn't like where this was going. 

“Come with me,” was all he said, getting up abruptly and walking out of the room. Liriel ran after him, following in his wake as he led her to what turned out to be his study. It was a large Dwemer room dominated by a long table that had clearly once been used for banqueting, but was now taken up by various bits of paperwork, and Madanach's map of the Reach from Druadach Redoubt. Next to it was a map of Skyrim, all the major towns, cities and forts marked on it. Madanach indicated the big map.

“Show me where these attacks are taking place.” He handed her a few blue flag pins to mark them off with, and Liriel tried to recall what Rikke had told her. One just south of Rorikstead, one near Gjukar's Monument, another just north of Lake Ilinalta, by the dragon mound. Madanach hissed as she finished, nudging a few silver flags near the ones she'd marked. 

“Not good?” she asked. Madanach shook his head.

“No. All those locations are within easy striking distance of our border camps – Bleakwind doesn't really have the troops, but Serpent's Bluff does. Then there's this one.” He tweaked the one furthest east, not far from the red flag indicating Fort Sungard. “Lost Valley Redoubt. You remember I said there were four factions in the Forsworn? Keirine headed one, Drascua another. Mireen was the third. All three of those we either had in the first place or you took care of for me. Not so the fourth.”

“Matriarch Sharreela of Lost Valley,” said Liriel, meeting his eyes and feeling a little bit satisfied to already be in the loop. “I know, Argis told me. He thought it might be her.”

“He's a smart boy,” Madanach nodded. “She'd fallen into disfavour with the other Hags after she lost Broken Tower, she'd lost a serious amount of face with them. I didn't think she really had the strength to take me on and she'd seemed keen enough to fall in with the new uprising. I didn't exactly trust her, but I'd no reason to think her disloyal either. Not until now.”

“What are you going to do?” Liriel asked. No doubt about it, this could spell trouble if not nipped in the bud fast. 

“I don't know,” Madanach said, worried, and that didn't bode well, Madanach not having a plan. “I need information, I can't just attack Lost Valley without solid evidence they've turned traitor. I'd rather not attack it at all, it's built into one of those old Nord ruins – near impregnable from the ground.”

“But open to the sky,” said Liriel thoughtfully. Madanach confirmed this was so, before he reached the same conclusion she did.

“My goodness, Liriel, are you suggesting we get a dragon to set the entire place on fire for us? That would be most unfortunate for them and helpful for us, I must say. If only we knew someone who might be able to arrange something like that.”

He met her eyes, and Liriel couldn't help but giggle, and he was grinning back, and suddenly Liriel remembered just why she loved this man.

“They don't stand a chance, do they?” Liriel laughed, already looking forward to it.

“Not when I catch up with them, no, but first I do need proof she's actually turned on me.” Madanach strode for the corridor, flagging down one of the guards. “Get Nepos and Uraccen out of bed, I need to see them both. Yes, now. What do you mean Uraccen's got company tonight? I don't care if he's entertaining Queen Barenziah herself in there, get him out of bed and in here.” The guards disappeared off to find Madanach's commanders, and he turned back to Liriel.

“Cariad, this may go on a little late, but you don't need to be here for this bit. I just need to go over all recent reports and communications from Lost Valley and Serpent's Bluff, check for anomalies. I'll join you later, yes?”

Liriel assented and went to kiss him goodnight, a kiss which turned steamier than Liriel had expected. Apparently giving Madanach a problem to fixate on that he could actually deal with worked wonders for his sex drive. If only there was time tonight.

“Don't stay up too late,” she whispered. Madanach kissed her cheek and laughed.

“We'll see. Go on, go, Uraccen won't be pleased at me interrupting his fun if he finds you all over me when he gets here.”

He was unlikely to be pleased anyway, but Liriel could see how her presence might make it worse. Retreating to Madanach's bedroom, she left him to it, already mentally drafting a report to Rikke. _It's not him. He's taking it seriously at last. My Reachman will deal with it, General, that is a promise._

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Liriel was half asleep when Madanach finally did come to bed. She felt him crawl into the bed alongside her, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her on the cheek. She smiled sleepily as he followed it up with a nip to her ear (he was obsessed with the ears, forever teasing the points – it was a good thing she liked it really) then let her go and burrowed into the pillows. She drifted off to sleep soon after.

She woke up to Madanach's arms around her again, just stroking her skin and watching her.

“What time is it?” she whispered.

“About eight o'clock,” he murmured. “I didn't want to wake you. You looked so peaceful.”

“I felt it,” Liriel whispered, rolling over and putting her arms around him. “This bed is so comfortable.”

“The perks of being king,” Madanach told her, kissing the tip of her nose and making her giggle. “Now, did you want breakfast or did you perhaps want to stay in bed a little longer?”

Now that was a tempting offer. On the other hand, Cicero was loose in the Keep somewhere and Liriel wasn't sure it was wise to leave him alone for long. Not to mention she needed to see how Eola was doing. 

“I should probably get up,” Liriel told him, sitting up and reaching for her Shrouded Armour. “We've both got things to do. Did you find anything last night?”

“No,” said Madanach, but he didn't look frustrated, which was odd if things really had been fruitless. “All the reports are in perfect order, all giving the impression all is well and there's no problems anywhere.”

“But?” Liriel asked, sensing there was more to this.

“Exactly, they're too perfect,” said Madanach, eyes narrowed. “No mention of these alleged attacks, no talk of bandits, which given that some sort of incident is occurring, is worrying. I don't pay them to decide what's a threat and what isn't, I pay them to send me all the information and I'll decide. That all this has been occurring within range of their scouts and not a whisper in any of the official reports – I don't like it.”

Liriel didn't like it either when he put it like that. Past time to do a little scouting of her own, it seemed. 

“What are you going to do?” Liriel asked quietly.

“I don't know yet,” said Madanach, reaching for his clothes. “But give me time. I'll think of something.” His eyes darkened and his face fell as he contemplated what else lay ahead of him that day. “In the mean time, I should go see if Eola's awake. You should come. She'll be pleased to see you, she's missed you. Yes, she – she'll be pleased.” Madanach got up abruptly, making for the door and Liriel followed after, feeling a little nervous herself. She had no idea what state Eola would be in or what awaited them. Whatever happened, this conversation would be rough on all of them.

It was with some surprise then that Liriel followed Madanach to Eola's room only to find the guards absent. Madanach stopped dead in the corridor.

“What in the name of... where are they? There's meant to be guards on here at all times! Eola, oh gods, _Eola!!_ ” He ran to the door, flinging it open... and the bed was neatly made, the room immaculate, Eola nowhere in sight.

“She's not here,” Madanach breathed, going pale. “Sweet gods.” He fled the room, racing down the corridor. “Nepos! NEPOS!!!”

Nepos materialised at the end of the corridor, looking reprovingly at Madanach.

“Yes, Madanach, I'm here. Is it really necessary to shout?”

“Yes, it's necessary!” Madanach shouted at him. “Where in Sithis' name is my daughter?”

Nepos sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. “Come with me, and for the love of Anu, do try to get a grip. We can't have everyone thinking you've completely lost it.”

“I could have you executed, you know,” Madanach grumbled, following in Nepos' wake.

“So you could and you've been saying that for over thirty years and have yet to do it. I'll rest easy a while longer,” said Nepos calmly as he made his way out to the central court area. He stepped out of the way, motioning for Madanach and Liriel to make their way out, and to Liriel's surprise, she could hear Eola, sounding exactly as she used to.

“Hogni, you are an absolute sweetheart, thank you so much!”

“Well, you know, I had some special meat come in and thought it should go to a special princess,” said Hogni, sounding a little embarrassed. “Bloody and rare, just how you like it.”

“You know me too well,” Eola purred, smiling up at him as she took another bite of the steak he'd brought her, sighing in delight as she swallowed the pieces down. “Hogni, you bring me regular deliveries like this, you can be my blood-brother when I'm queen.”

“That's too kind of you,” Hogni said, definitely blushing now, and Madanach was just staring in amazement.

“She's up,” he whispered. “Dressed, in that old studded armour of hers, as if I've not got her a whole wardrobe of things to wear, but still dressed and out of bed, day two of her time and she's fine, look at her!” He looked absolutely transfixed, smile starting to spread across his face as he watched Hogni take his leave and Eola tucking in to her steak. Next to her was Cicero in his motley, eyes not leaving the meat for a second.

“Sister,” he whined, tugging at her arm. “Sister, I'm hungry...”

“Did you want some, Cicero?” Eola sighed, carving off a bit for him. Liriel put a hand to her mouth, not sure she wanted to see this, but on the other hand, at least Cicero had to have guessed that was probably not beef or venison she was eating. He nodded enthusiastically, opening his mouth wide for Eola to feed him, taking the meat off her fork and swallowing it down, looking worryingly cheerful about the whole thing. He wiped his mouth delicately with a napkin and folded his hands on the table, smiling at Eola with genuine affection and happiness in his eyes. Eola stopped chewing and looked back at him.

“What?” she asked, grin on her own face. “Something in my hair?”

“No, no,” Cicero said softly. “Cicero just likes looking at you. Cicero did not think he would ever know another like him.” 

Eola put her fork down, smile widening and her whole expression softening. 

“Same here,” she said quietly, reaching for his hand. Cicero took hers and lifted it to his lips, and that was when Liriel realised Madanach's face had turned from joyous amazement to incensed rage, lightning crackling at his fingers.

“Madanach, don't you even dare!” Liriel cried, voice ringing out, and as one, Cicero and Eola looked up, faces frozen in identical looks of horror. 

“Oh this is not happening,” Eola whispered, looking absolutely mortified. Cicero just meeped before diving under the table, taking cover under solid Dwemer stonework that looked like it could stand up to even Madanach's magic.

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF SITHIS IS GOING ON HERE???” Madanach roared. Cicero howled in terror, cowering under the table. “I DID NOT MAKE YOU BLOOD-BROTHER SO YOU COULD SEDUCE MY LITTLE GIRL!!”

“He did not seduce me!” Eola cried. “I'm quite capable of making my own decisions!”

“You've been bed-ridden all week!” Madanach snapped at her. Eola slammed down her cutlery and got to her feet, moving with all the predatory grace Liriel remembered.

“I'm feeling _better_ ,” Eola growled. “Healthy and strong and _fed_ , and if I decide I want a man in my bed, that is my business and no one else's, _father!_ ”

“One of my blood-brothers steals into my little girl's bedroom, I'd say it's entirely my business!” Madanach shouted, bearing down on her. He still had the spells armed and while Liriel didn't think he'd used them, not on Eola anyway, she drew closer, poised to intervene if she had to. Eola was standing her ground, glaring back, her own magicka flaring in response and Liriel realised that it wasn't far off Madanach's own in intensity.

“I am not a little girl!” Eola announced, drawing herself up to her full height and shaking her hair back. “I'm _twenty five years old!_ ”

“You're in a vulnerable and delicate mental state!” Madanach shouted back.

“I'm _not delicate!_ ” Eola yelled. “Or fragile, or vulnerable, or anything like that! I'm a Forsworn-trained nightblade, priestess of Sithis, Winterhold-trained mage and as fearless and capable as you are! I can decide for myself who I'm going to love!”

“Love??” Madanach seethed. “Eola, he was having an affair with your sister!” By now the entire court had fallen silent, all gathering around to watch what had to be the single most interesting turn in Madanach and Eola's complicated relationship.

“I know!” Eola shouted. “But Kaie is _dead_ , Da! She's not coming back! Her dance is _over!_ Damned if I'm turning my back on someone I love just because my sister took a shine to him once!”

Cicero had peeped out from under the table, blinking as if he wasn't sure he'd heard that correctly. Eola ignored him, eyes not leaving her father. She had her hands on her hips, clearly in no mood to back down, no mean feat considering most people faced with an angry Madanach usually ran or prostrated themselves in terror.

Madanach looked no less grim, but the anger at least had subsided. He lowered his hands, spells flickering out of existence.

“How long,” he said quietly. “How long has this been going on, Eola?”

Eola did look away then, folding her arms and looking defensive.

“I always liked him. Ever since I first met him at Falkreath, after he killed Astrid. But nothing happened, Da. He didn't even seem interested at first. Then later, a little – but he still mostly avoided me. Before the battle of Windhelm, we finally talked it over but I could see he was still pining over Kaie so told him to go after her. Then she got herself killed and...” Eola took a deep breath before continuing. “Cicero and I mourned together, but nothing happened between us. I knew I'd have to come here by then, didn't think it'd ever go anywhere with him so I just said goodbye and left. Didn't see him again until last night, and that's the first time we've been together, I swear it, Da. He didn't cheat on Kaie, I promise. Not unless cuddling is cheating, and he cuddles everyone.”

Madanach said nothing, but something in his stance had softened just slightly, and Liriel had a feeling that maybe, just maybe, he was going to relent.

“Liriel,” said Madanach thoughtfully. “You said Cicero wasn't always... like he is. That he was more normal once, until he ended up alone for a decade.”

Liriel confirmed this was so. “Why do you ask?”

“So... it's a response to events and not inborn then? It's not hereditary?”

“I don't think so,” said Liriel, beginning to smile as she realised where Madanach was going with this. So did Eola, because she was looking up, astonished.

“Da? What are you saying?”

“It's too soon for either of you to be getting married,” Madanach growled. “Mourn Kaie properly first, both of you. She deserves no less. However, seeing as he's managed to make you smile for the first time in weeks, I suppose I can permit some form of courtship for now. But no getting engaged for at least six months, and no wedding in the next year, understand?”

Eola stared at her father, hardly able to believe her ears.

“You... you mean it?” she gasped. “You don't mind?”

“Of course I mind, the man's a gibbering halfwit,” Madanach growled. “But if he makes you happy, I suppose I'll have to live with it, won't I?”

Next thing Liriel knew, Eola had flung her arms around her father, clinging on to him tightly, head resting on his chest. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I love you, Da.”

“I love you too,” Madanach said roughly, kissing her forehead and hugging her back. “Cariad, you should have told me. If I'd known you were unhappy because you missed your lover, I'd have sent for him weeks ago.”

“Didn't think you'd approve,” Eola said. “And you nearly threw lightning at him when you saw us, so I wasn't wrong, was I?”

“No,” Madanach admitted. “But if he makes you happy... he does make you happy, doesn't he?”

“He does,” Eola reassured him, smiling. “Very much.”

“Good,” Madanach growled, giving Eola another kiss on the forehead. “He'd better.” He turned to where Cicero was crawling out from under the table, looking hopeful. “And as for you, Garra-Lann. If you mistreat, abuse, cheat on or treat my daughter with anything less than the greatest of respect, you had better run and hide because not even Liriel will be able to save you from my wrath. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes sir,” Cicero gasped. “Cicero would never permit any harm to come to sweet Eola, sir. Cicero is a good boy! Cicero loves his sweet sister!”

“I'm glad to hear it. Make sure it stays that way.” Madanach turned and made his way over to where Liriel was waiting for him with a proud smile and a hug which turned into a kiss as passionate as any Cicero and Eola had shared.

“Look at him,” Eola sighed, shaking her head. “Has a go at me for having someone then starts copping a feel of the Listener. Fathers are such hypocrites.”

“Cicero wouldn't know, he never had one,” Cicero said, finally emerging from beneath the table and getting to his feet. He glanced shyly up at Eola, peeping at her from under his eyelashes. “Eola meant it? Eola is in love with sweet Cicero?”

Eola hesitated, then nodded.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “You're adorable and sweet and patient and funny and you're a true-born killer like me. You get me. You understand my... needs. I'd given up hope of finding someone who actually understood and didn't find me intimidating. A lot of people do. I can't think why.”

Cicero, having seen her tear into a man's liver with her teeth before now, could think exactly why, but wisely said nothing. Instead he just took Eola into his arms and held her close.

“Cicero loves you too, sweetling,” he murmured. “Cicero was worried. Cicero missed you. Cicero is glad you're happy again.”

“So am I,” Eola said, forehead resting against Cicero's. “I really missed you. Thank you. For everything.”

Cicero just giggled and kissed her again, tasting blood on her lips still and that made him want to kiss her even more. Really, he should have taken her to bed ages ago, but then again, that might have made Madanach reconsider throwing lightning at him and Cicero would rather not be on the receiving end of that.

“Come on,” said Eola softly. “Let's go see Liriel. I need to thank her for turning up when she did. I think you and her between you just saved my life.”

Quite possibly – Eola still looked far too skinny, but at least she wasn't so pale now. Never mind. She was Cicero's now. Cicero would take care of her. Cicero would love her and feed her and tend to her, and if there eventually did turn out to be giggling red-haired grandchildren in the House of Madanach after all, Cicero would tend to them too and teach them to sneak and stab and follow the Tenets and serve the Listener and love the Night Mother. Yes, yes, grandchildren for Mother! Perhaps, perhaps. All things in time. He followed Eola to where sweet Listener Liriel was still cuddling the Reach-King. About the only way today could go any better was if he got the chance to stab someone. Never mind. If he was patient and very good and hung around Madanach long enough, it was just possible he might get the chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cicero and Eola are very sweet together, aren't they? For a Daedra-worshipping cannibal and a giggling lunatic whose number one hobby is stabbing people, anyway.
> 
> Madanach as crazy overprotective father is a lot of fun to write too. He's probably one of the few people out there capable of successfully intimidating Cicero (poor man!).
> 
> Next chapter, Madanach gets the proof he needs but not in the way he'd have liked, and it's time for Eola to finally really show what she's made of.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madanach's finally starting to relax, what with Eola happy again, a future consort lined up for her, his own lover back in his Keep and the kingdom's future looking bright. However, he's first got to sort the present out, and when the Lost Valley rebels make their move, the fallout will take all the House of Madanach's resources to cope with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was meant to resolve the Lost Valley sequence, but then I ended up writing a flashback to Madanach's youth, specifically the birth of his first child. It ended up being awfully cute, also quite the insight into Madanach's marriage, early political career, also the opportunity to write more Nepos, which is always good.

_A beautiful, healthy little girl, the midwife had said as she'd placed her into his arms with a smile. She'd been right too, Madanach had reached shaking hands out to his newborn baby, cradled her in the crook of his arm and all rational thought had left his head. A baby, a tiny baby, so small and fragile and how was it possible for a human being to be so small?? Tiny little hands and fingers and ears, but all perfectly formed and beautiful, so beautiful, the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen._

 

_No one had ever told him it would feel like this. No one had ever said 'by the way, Madanach, when that child comes out of Mireen's womb, it'll take your life, bring it screaming to a halt and nothing else will ever matter or be important ever again'. Everyone just made it out to be the natural order of things – you come of age, get initiated, sow your wild oats and shag about like no one's business, then you get married and assuming you didn't prefer your own gender, produce the next generation of Forsworn. Natural it might be. Didn't mean it wasn't powerful._

 

“ _Madanach!” And that was his father-in-law, Cordach ap Kernos, the leader of Karthspire camp, eager to meet his firstborn grandchild. “Is that my grandson you have there? I'm quite happy for him to be named after me, you know.”_

 

“ _Granddaughter, actually,” Madanach said, that familiar sense of annoyance whenever Cordach opened his mouth prickling down his spine. Cordach was tall for a Reachman, tall and broad-shouldered, nearly six foot tall, and that particular kind of extrovert that couldn't be ignored or avoided and insisted on having a hand in everything. Including interfering in his daughter's marriage and driving his son-in-law up the wall._

 

“ _Granddaughter? Oh.” Cordach's shoulders sagged a little, then he shrugged. “Ah well, you're both young. Plenty of time for a boy yet.”_

 

“ _What's that, Da?” Oh good, Mireen's younger brother had put in an appearance. Twenty years old, heir to the chieftainship, all the arrogance of youth and the rashness, but not alas the insight to realise it, Kelvan ap Cordach was the bane of Madanach's life._

 

“ _You've got a niece, Kelvan,” Cordach explained. Kelvan just smirked._

 

“ _A girl, is it? Never mind, Mads. Maybe next time,” Kelvan grinned. Madanach smiled through gritted teeth and entertained himself with fantasies of shoving Kelvan's head in the Karth and freezing the river so the boy was trapped under there and drowned._

 

“ _Come on, let's tell the rest of the camp,” Cordach announced, patting Kelvan on the shoulder. “I have a grandchild! We've got a naming ceremony to organise.”_

 

_Bad luck to name a child in its first nine days of life, but Madanach and Mireen had already decided on Caradach if it was a boy and Eithne if it was a girl. Time to rejoin her and introduce their daughter._

 

_Mireen was lying on her straw pellet, the midwife having cleaned her up and removed the afterbirth. She was resting, half asleep after having been in labour all night. Madanach had stayed with her as long as he could before the midwife had finally chased him out an hour ago, enduring the swearing and raging and snarling that she was never sleeping with him again if this was the result. He'd been told that was entirely normal for a woman in labour, but Mireen was a fierce-tempered woman and a powerful sorceress and he'd not liked the vehemence in her eyes._

 

“ _Mireen,” he murmured as he entered the birthing tent, Mireen and Eithne's home for the next nine days until the naming ceremony. “Mireen, cariad, how are you feeling?”_

 

“ _Tired,” came the response. “And hungry. Well, husband? What do we have? Was it all worth it?”_

 

_Madanach hesitated. Disappointing Cordach was almost inevitable, and disappointing Kelvan was an absolute delight, but disappointing Mireen... that sent shivers down his spine. Mireen was dangerous when angry. He'd seen that often enough for himself, but you didn't just walk out on the daughter of a powerful chief. He had a fair idea of what she'd tell her father and brother if he did._

 

“ _It's a girl,” he said, clutching Eithne that bit tighter. “She's beautiful, cariad, did you want to see her?”_

 

_Mireen just sighed and rolled her eyes. “A girl?? After all that, I'm going to have to do it again? Honestly, Madanach, it was a son we needed, an heir to take over if my fool of a brother fails to sire any legitimate children.”_

 

_There it was again, that disappointment and from the girl's own mother. Surely this wasn't normal? Madanach stroked Eithne, feeling that rush of feeling again as the girl gurgled away in his arms. Poor child. Newborn and already her mother, uncle and grandfather thought she wasn't good enough and just because she was a girl and no woman ran a camp in her own right, not unless she was a Matriarch._

 

You are good enough for me, m'inyeen. I don't care what happens, I'm your da and I'll take care of you.

 

“ _No matter, we are young,” Mireen murmured sleepily. “I am twenty three, I have a good ten years left to me. We will have more and a son will come, husband. Won't he.”_

 

“ _We will have more, cariad,” Madanach promised, shivering at the threat implicit in her words. Madanach ap Caradach didn't fear a lot but he feared what Mireen was capable of._

 

“ _Good, good,” Mireen sighed, turning over. “Wake me up when she needs feeding.” With that, she dozed off._

 

_Madanach was no less tired, but on the other hand, he'd not had a child ripped brutally and bloodily out from his body, so he supposed he could manage for a bit while Mireen rested. No real idea what he was doing of course, but the midwife hadn't gone far and there was no shortage of Forsworn mothers in the camp who would almost certainly help a lost and exhausted new father if he charmed them enough. Picking Eithne up and wrapping her in a blanket, he went outside to sit in the shade, perched on the boardwalk with his feet resting in the Karth._

 

“ _Madanach! They tell me you have a little one.”_

 

_Finally someone Madanach was actually pleased to see. Nepos, known as the Nose because of, well, his nose – not exactly good-looking and easily the worst warrior in the camp, but gifted with one of the finest strategic minds Madanach had ever come across, which was why Madanach had cultivated the man's friendship. Nepos was some sort of distant cousin to Mireen and Kelvan on their mother's side, but Madanach strongly suspected Nepos was actually Cordach's illegitimate son. Why else was a man who barely lifted a blade, avoided manual labour where possible and was known to prefer men as his bedmates as tolerated by Cordach as Nepos was?_

 

“ _I do,” Madanach answered, not able to take his eyes away from Eithne. “I've got a daughter, look!”_

 

“ _So you have,” Nepos said with a smile as he sat down next to Madanach. “Nepona is a lovely name, you know, you should consider it.”_

 

“ _I'm not naming a child after you,” Madanach said, rolling his eyes. “Look at her, Nepos, she's tiny!”_

 

“ _I'm reliably told that's how they start out, yes,” said Nepos, craning his head to look, actually smiling at her. “She is rather cute, isn't she?”_

 

“ _She's gorgeous,” Madanach breathed, unable to stop smiling at her as her eyes flicked open briefly. “Yes, cariad, that's you I'm talking about. You're beautiful, aren't you? Yes you are, and I'm your da so it must be true.”_

 

“ _Anu help us, you're in love, aren't you?” Nepos laughed, but he was smiling fondly at him. “You know, for a man who once killed five Nord mercenaries by himself, you are ridiculously sentimental.”_

 

“ _It's fine to have feelings, Nepos,” Madanach said, still gazing down at Eithne. “Nothing wrong with that. Old gods know one of her parents should have some for her.”_

 

_Understanding nod from Nepos, about the only one in the entire camp who saw what lay beneath the surface of Mireen ap Cordach and her marriage to Madanach. Nepos had a knack for seeing what others missed, another reason to keep him around._

 

“ _She wanted a boy, then.”_

 

“ _Yeah,” Madanach sighed. “Her, Kelvan, Cordach, all of them disappointed I'm not cradling a son in my arms right now. As if it's my little one's fault. Nepos, is it me? Am I a terrible Reachman for not caring?”_

 

“ _No, just a good father,” said Nepos, patting Madanach on the shoulder. “She's a lucky girl to have you.”_

 

“ _She's the only grandchild of Cordach ap Kernos, chief of Karthspire camp,” Madanach said, growing sombre. “If Kelvan never sires anything, or if I don't sire a son, she'll end up being sold off into marriage to whoever'll make a capable leader, regardless of her own feelings. She might end up getting bartered off like livestock anyway. Dammit, Nepos, the Nords don't do that to their children, do they? Why do we do it to ours?”_

 

“ _Nords have political marriages too,” Nepos sighed. “But you are right in that were Cordach a Nord Jarl, Mireen would be his heir not Kelvan, and you'd be holding the future Jarl in your arms right now.”_

 

_Madanach did smile at that, and he wished it could actually be true, that he could cradle his child in his arms and know she was going to be a chief or queen in her own right. It was just so unfair, women could wield magic like men did, they could wield blades if someone taught them, why couldn't they lead warbands or camps? Why not have a Reach-Queen in her own right? Well, they didn't have a king at the moment, no one leader who could bring the tribes together into one army. Not since Red Eagle's day had anyone ever united the Forsworn. It was a task that would take some doing. Karthspire camp probably spent more time in skirmishes with Lost Valley and Dead Crone Rock than it did fighting the Nords. It was almost like no one actually wanted their land back. As if they were happy with what they'd got. They'd mostly grown up in one camp or another, they didn't know what it was like back in Markarth. Madanach did. Madanach had grown up there, the son of a simple smelter worker who spent his spare time studying the old ways of the Reach, a scholar among men and women who didn't often get the chance for an education. Right up until the head of the Silver-Blood family had taken a shine to Madanach's twin sister and the resulting fallout had involved their beloved father's murder and the Jarl doing nothing. Thalric Silver-Blood had made his move on Keirine after that, moving her into a love-nest and raping her every night and Madanach had been fifteen, near-destitute and helpless to do anything other than drink to forget and pick fights he could win with men he pretended were the Nords he hated. Then Keirine had snapped and murdered Thalric, fled before anyone could find the body and gone straight to her brother in terror. That had galvanised Madanach into action, and he'd grabbed his father's books and writings, a few tools to serve as weapons and as many ingots as they could sneak out, and they'd fled into the hills, not stopping until they ended up at Karthspire quite by chance and been accepted in. It turned out the writings of Caradach ap Cordell told more lore of the Reachmen in one place than anyone had ever seen before, and the two of them had been welcomed in. Keirine might have long since departed to Hag's End to study with the Matriarch there, but Madanach still called this place home. He couldn't forget his childhood though. Couldn't forget what the Nords had done to his family. Lust for vengeance still burned in his heart, the reality of injustice and oppression never far from his mind, unlike the rest of the camp who called themselves free without really knowing what it meant._

 

_Now here he was, seeing injustice again as his own people looked dismissively at his baby girl just because she wasn't a boy. It wasn't fair. He'd come here to fight for a better world, not perpetuate the injustices of the old one._

 

“ _What if I was?” Madanach asked, feeling his rebellious streak flaring. “What if she was our future leader?”_

 

_Nepos laughed, then saw the intensity in Madanach's eyes. “By Anu, you're serious aren't you? Madanach, far be it from me to lecture you on hopeless causes, but you do realise you'd have to remake Forsworn society from the ground up, don't you? And they won't go willingly. You'll need to make yourself a man to be feared.”_

 

“ _I am a man to be feared,” Madanach growled. “And Nepos, we need remaking. Look at us, a bunch of scattered hill warriors, hunting and gathering and occasionally raiding but more often fighting each other. The Nords don't take us seriously and by the gods, I don't blame them. We need a leader, a true leader, of all of us. We need a king, Nepos.”_

 

“ _Hope to the old gods you're not suggesting I do it,” Nepos said dryly. “They're not going to follow me.”_

 

“ _No, not you,” Madanach laughed, then his laughter fading as his mind seized on the challenge and began to plot, a strange sense of destiny settling on his shoulders. He was no seer, but in that moment it was almost as if he could see his road laid out ahead of him, knew the path he would follow. “I'm going to do it. I'm going to be Reach-King. I'll unite the camps, organise us properly, turn us into a force to be feared again. I don't care who I have to kill, I will be the next Red Eagle. Then I will take the fight to the Nords, and I will have Markarth in my hands, my backside on the Mournful Throne and the Silver-Bloods at my mercy. Then my daughter will be heir and after I'm gone, she'll be Queen of the Reach and absolutely no one will doubt her brains, skills, magic or leadership ability and she'll marry who she wants. I swear it, Nepos.”_

 

“ _Do you know, I almost believe you,” Nepos whispered, actually looking impressed for once. “You'd really take over the entire Reach and remake the Forsworn in the process just so your daughter can have power in her own right?”_

 

“ _For my daughter, I'd do anything,” Madanach murmured, gazing down at Eithne, so fragile and beautiful and his, all his to cherish and protect. It wasn't just for his daughter he'd be doing this, obviously. He had scores to settle, a people to save. A world to change. If that world proved a better place for his daughter than the one she'd been born into, then he'd be able to die a happy man._

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“She's going to be Queen, you know,” Madanach grinned, looking up at Nepos as he sat back in his study with a glass of jenever in his hand. It was a little early to start drinking, but Madanach was in a good mood. Liriel was back. Eola was happy again. Her consort was going to be Cicero Garra-Lann, a man who everyone was afraid of and yet who possessed no ambitions of his own, a perfect combination from Madanach's point of view. A man who could protect Eola and yet absolutely no one would even consider that he should be ruling, not his wife. She'd chosen well.

 

“Yes, that is how it works,” said Nepos, taking a seat across the table from him. “She's your last trueborn child, she takes over when you die. Such is the way of it.”

 

“Forty years ago, if you'd told a Forsworn man he'd be swearing fealty to a woman as Rhan-Brenhina, he'd have laughed in your face,” Madanach reminded him. “Men were the leaders and warriors, women the priestesses and witches. Now look at us.”

 

“Yes, you killed most of the other chiefs, starting with your own brother-in-law, and you cut deals with the Hags, put them in charge of their camps with their Briar Hearts leading camps that didn't have Matriarchs and you presided over all of it.” Nepos nudged Lost Valley's flag on the Reach map. “Regretting it?”

 

“What, consolidating power, getting the Hags onside and arranging for a whole generation of Forsworn to get used to women in control so a daughter of mine could one day take over? Hardly,” Madanach snorted. “But the Hags need to remember that once they get granted citizenship, once they step out of their nests and into politics, they need to tow the line and stay loyal. Sharreela can do what she wants in her camp, mediate with the gods all she wants, but she needs to remember I'm her King. I got rid of Lost Valley's chief for her, put her in charge. She goes against me, I can take it all back.”

 

“I rather think she's saying you being King isn't the will of the gods,” Nepos remarked, face sombre in the lamplight. “That you're abandoning the old ways by signing up to the Empire so they're going to fight on.”

 

“You can't dance by standing still, Nepos,” said Madanach, waving his glass. “Sithis is change, not just death. We got rid of the Nords, we don't have Silver-Bloods any more, no one is going to have to suffer what I did. No more violence, no more shattered families, no more war orphans. We've got peace and we're in charge. I intend for things to stay that way.”

 

“Of course,” Nepos murmured. “Well, I take it you want information then? Evidence she's turned? Going to be tricky to get people into her camp, she won't trust any newcomers, but I can get loyal border scouts out there for you, watching to see if they try anything again. If we can prevent or intervene in an attack, get some witnesses who are willing to come here and tell you the whole story, that would give us the evidence we need.”

 

That it would, but it was risky and relied on being in the right place at the right time. However, the only other option was sending people to Lost Valley itself, and Madanach had a feeling they'd not see whoever he sent again. Best to get legitimate, loyal scouts in place just to see what was actually going on out there. Sundered Towers and Broken Tower would have people, he was sure.

 

From outside in the corridor, a commotion of raised voices and running feet, causing Madanach to look at Nepos and sit up, putting his drink down. Something was up.

 

Hammering on the door and then Cicero's voice, sounding even more excited than usual.

 

“Madanach, dear Madanach, dangerous and ruthless Reach-King, come, come, you must, you must! You are needed, yes needed, there's been _blood!_ ”

 

Madanach didn't need to hear any more. Nepos in close pursuit, he raced out to the throne room.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Several of the ReachGuard gathered around, including a few who Madanach was fairly certain were meant to be out patrolling the south road today. Liriel was in the midst of them, on her knees, arm around someone, and Eola, old gods bless her, Eola was standing there with her hands on her hips, radiating authority like he always knew she could.

 

“And you're sure it was ReachGuard soldiers did this,” she was asking, one hand running through her hair. “Not bandits or Nord mercenaries in disguise.”

 

“Yes, I'm sure,” and that was no adult, it was a child's voice, a young boy of about ten or so, Madanach could see that now. Not a Reach child either, but a Nord and while there were tears on his cheeks, he was glaring defiantly at Eola. “They were Forsworn, they said they were! And – and there were loads of them, all using magic and they killed the guards on patrol and Leontius and... and Ma...” He looked like he was about to cry again and Liriel rubbed his back, looking pretty torn up herself. Eola looked to the ReachGuards who'd brought him in for confirmation.

 

“What did you find?” she said softly.

 

“It was as the boy said,” one of them told her. “Old Hroldan Inn burned down, two dead ReachGuard outside and that Imperial labourer of Eydis's too. Inside, Eydis's body. We found the boy on the road. Apparently they let him go on condition he went to Markarth and told the King what had happened.”

 

“They gave me a message,” the boy gasped. “For – for the King's ears only.”

 

Eola knelt down so she was on the boy's level.

 

“You can tell me, honey,” she said gently. “He's my da, I'll make sure he gets it.”

 

Madanach by this point had heard everything he needed to know and was fairly certain he could guess what this message was and who'd sent it. Old Hroldan, site of the battle that had given the Reach to the Nords in the first place, once a thriving settlement but now just the inn was left. Well. Not any more, it turned out. Sharreela of Lost Valley had made her move by razing the site of the Reach's defeat by Talos Stormcrown in protest at him signing up to the Empire Talos founded, leaving only the innkeeper's son alive to make sure the story reached him.

 

“No need, I'm here,” Madanach said grimly. Everyone made way, and Madanach knelt down next to the boy. He looked awful, face filthy, tearstained, clothes torn, a few bruises – Sharreela's people might have spared his life but they'd clearly not been above a few punches. “All right, all of you back off, give the boy some space.” The guards melted away, as did the various onlookers, leaving just Eola, Liriel, Nepos not far away and Borkul at Madanach's shoulder. Better. Much better.

 

“Da, they've attacked Old Hroldan,” Eola began, barely containing her anger. “Just destroyed the place!”

 

“So I heard,” said Madanach, tucking his own rage away for now. Later, later when he had a bit of privacy and a better grasp of the situation, then he'd scream in fury and set off some Destruction spells for good measure. But not yet. “Remind me of your name, boy. You're the innkeeper's son at Old Hroldan, right?” He'd made a point of visiting both Old Hroldan and Karthwasten not long after the treaty had been signed to make sure both settlements were going to follow the new regime and not get any foolish ideas into their heads. He needn't have worried. Between attacks from the Stormcloaks and intimidation from mercenaries working for the Silver-Bloods, Karthwasten had actually been relieved for the fighting to finally be over and given him no trouble. Old Hroldan had been only slightly tougher, the innkeeper Eydis having stared him down and informed him she was just an honest tradeswoman trying to keep her inn and raise her son, she wasn't going to be treated like a common criminal. He'd just laughed and told her he was quite happy to wait for her to break some laws first and that as long as she paid her taxes and didn't water her ale down, she'd be just fine. She'd nodded and replied that if it meant no more Forsworn scaring off travellers and her customers, she didn't care, and Madanach had promised she'd have no further problems from any of his people. He'd noticed the boy watching warily from one of the side rooms at the time but paid him no further mind. Now it seemed Sharreela had made a liar of him.

 

“Skuli, sir. Skuli Eydisson,” the boy said, glaring at him.

 

“Skuli,” Madanach repeated. “And you know who I am?”

 

“You're the king,” Skuli said, voice softening a little. Evidently admitting that out loud had something of an intimidating effect on him. “King Madanach. You were at our inn three months ago. You said we'd have no trouble from you!” He looked torn between wanting to shout at him and bursting into tears again.

 

“I never ordered this, boy,” Madanach told him, willing the boy to believe him. “Whoever they are, they're acting outside my authority and against my will. They're outlaws and they will pay, I promise you. But first I need to find out who they are. So what was this message? What did they tell you?”

 

Skuli shot a glance at Liriel. Clearly she'd made an impression on him – either that or she'd done some favour or other for his mother before now. It wouldn't surprise him – everyone seemed to know the Dragon-Queen.

 

“It's all right, sweetie. You can tell him. He'll make sure justice is done,” Liriel said gently. “He won't let anyone else hurt you, I promise.”

 

Skuli nodded, clearly reassured by Liriel being there. Fearless in a fight, capable of raining fire and death on her enemies, or murdering them before they even saw her, but put a small child in front of her and Liriel turned into a sentimental ball of mush. It was adorable to watch, but now was not the time to get distracted.

 

“They said... they said to tell you you were no true Reach-King, just the Empire's caged bird, and that you couldn't stop them. That they'd see the Mournful Throne empty rather than with a traitor on it. That...” He stopped, looking nervously at Eola. She nodded for him to continue, frowning at his words. Skuli took a deep breath and continued. “They said your line had failed, that the Reach-Princess was nothing but some mewling weakling and unworthy of ruling true Reachmen, and probably a changeling.” He edged towards Liriel, bravery fading. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, that's what they told me to say!”

 

Eola's eyes had gone cold, lip curling back in a snarl and even Madanach felt a little afraid of her. She'd never looked more like her mother than she did right then.

 

“Who were they?” she said softly. “Who do I need to kill?”

 

“Lost Valley,” Skuli gasped, flinching away from Eola. “They said Sharreela of Lost Valley sent her regards and that the old gods had passed judgement. That's all, I swear!”

 

“Sithis will pass judgement all right,” Eola growled. “Cicero! Come with me, we've got some stabbing to do!”

 

“Stabbing!” Cicero shrieked, capering joyfully in Eola's wake as she swept out of the room. “Stabbing and blood and _fire!_ ”

 

Madanach did not like the sound of that, but with any luck Eola would calm down and then they could plot the reprisal together. He turned his attention back to Skuli.

 

“You did the right thing coming here and telling me, boy,” he said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. “Skuli, I'm so sorry for your loss. I couldn't save your mother, but I promise I'll see justice done.”

 

Skuli nodded mutely, saying nothing while Liriel rubbed his back.

 

“Skuli?” Liriel said gently. “What is it?”

 

“I don't have anywhere to live now,” Skuli whispered. “I don't have a ma any more. I don't have any money or anything. What do I do now?”

 

Liriel turned pleading eyes on Madanach, and somehow he knew, just knew, what was on her mind. Apparently just because she wouldn't be able to bear a child of his blood didn't mean she wasn't broody.

 

“Madanach?” she whispered. “Madanach, we can't just leave the poor boy...”

 

“Well, of course not,” Madanach sighed. “But we don't have an orphanage in the kingdom and unless we can find someone willing to foster or adopt him...”

 

“I could?” Liriel breathed hopefully. “We've got room for a third, haven't we?”

 

Truth be told, Madanach wasn't even sure, but Understone Keep wasn't exactly small by any stretch of the imagination. There was probably room somewhere.

 

“I'm sure we have,” Nepos said thoughtfully, and oh good, now his steward was getting in on the act. Madanach mentally resigned all hope of winning this one to the Void. “We may need to rearrange a few people's accommodations, but we've got a spare bed somewhere, I'm sure.”

 

“Liriel, the boy just lost his mother, he is not going to want to be adopted any time soon,” Madanach growled. But Skuli was staring at Liriel, sad eyes looking up at her as if she was the answer to his prayers.

 

“Fine,” Madanach sighed. “He can stay here for now as a ward of court. But you're not adopting him! Not until he's been here for a while and we've all got to know each other, including your existing two foundlings, I might add. Then... we'll see.”

 

Liriel beamed at him before putting an arm around Skuli. “Don't worry, sweetie,” she whispered. “I'll make sure you're looked after. And don't you worry about the King. He's not as scary as he looks.”

 

Liriel really needed to stop doing that or his reputation was going to be completely ruined.

 

“Quite,” Madanach said tersely. “Nepos, why don't you look after Skuli, find him a healer then some food and somewhere to sleep. Liriel, my study, now. We need to start organising the attack – oh good gods.”

 

As Nepos led Skuli away, Eola had re-emerged, studded armour packed away and replaced with something rather more fearsome – the Shrouded Armour Liriel had given her, Elven blade at her side and was that Liriel's Staff of Magnus on her back?? Behind her, Cicero had emerged in his Forsworn gear, ebony and glass war axes at his waist that Madanach was almost certain had been Kaie's once, skipping and giggling to himself at the prospect of a fight.

 

“And where exactly do you think you're going?” Madanach snapped, opting for anger because if he didn't get angry, he'd end up clinging to her in terror, screaming for her not to leave.

 

“Got a Matriarch to kill,” said Eola calmly, pulling her Shrouded Gloves on. “Don't worry, Da, I got this one.”

 

“You are not going to Lost Valley!” Madanach shouted. “I've got an army to deal with this, Eola! You can stay here, you don't need to be there!”

 

“The Void I don't!” Eola cried, folding her arms. “Did you hear what that bitch called me?”

 

“I heard, daughter,” Madanach said through gritted teeth. “And I have every intention of dealing with it. You do not need to risk your life over a slight to your pride.”

 

“She said I was _unfit to rule!_ ” Eola seethed, lips twisting back to reveal teeth that looked almost vampiric in their sharpness. “She called me a _changeling!_ I am going out there to prove otherwise, Da!”

 

“You will do no such thing!” Madanach snapped, fighting away the image of Hagraven claws tearing into his little girl, his last child lying charred and blackened by mage fire. “I am King and I will deal with this!”

 

“You won't always be!” Eola shot back. “What happens when I don't have you any more, hmm?”

 

Madanach wasn't sure how to answer that, but fortunately Liriel spoke up and stopped him from having to.

 

“Madanach. Eola. Stop it, the pair of you.”

 

Liriel's voice was soft but firm, and her earlier sentimentality was gone, her professional persona back and Madanach was reminded that underneath the outward beauty and loving nature was a woman who'd killed a dragon-god and an Emperor personally.

 

“I take it you had something in mind, cariad,” he sighed. Liriel nodded.

 

“Yes I did. General Rikke sent me to investigate this on behalf of the Legion and deal with it. Now we know who's behind this, I can start taking action. Madanach, let me go after her. It's not the first time I've had to put down a Matriarch for you, after all.”

 

If Liriel going was marginally better than risking Eola, that still didn't mean Madanach liked the idea.

 

“Liriel, this is a direct challenge to my authority, I can't just send in the Dark Brotherhood,” Madanach sighed. “I need to be seen to be doing something.” Honestly, here he was, trying to be a legitimate ruler, and his own wife-to-be was expecting him to just lapse back into his old murderous habits as if he was still a leader of outlaws.

 

Of course, him no longer being an outlaw leader, a King in Rags, was precisely the problem.

 

“Which is why I should be going!” Eola cried. “She's called me out too! More so, in fact – she just said you were a traitor. She said I was _weak!_ ”

 

She looked outraged at the very idea, bless her. Anyone who thought she was a changeling had clearly never met her, she was every inch his child. All the same, she was also his only child – his only trueborn child, that is – and his only hope for a succession that would keep the Reach his. He needed her alive and not just because she was his adored little girl.

 

“Cicero doesn't mind stabbing the treacherous she-daedra,” Cicero put in, still looking hopeful. “Cicero is quite happy to deal with the problem for his dear father-in-law.”

 

It was tempting, and if anyone could walk into a hostile camp, kill the Matriarch and get away with it, it was Cicero, but even so...

 

“All right, Liriel, what do you suggest?” he sighed, knowing when to give in. “I suppose I don't really want to be declaring war on my own people, and what is being said openly in Lost Valley may well be being whispered more covertly in other camps. I'm not sure who I can trust and if I kill a Matriarch myself, who knows what that'll inspire elsewhere. Can't have people thinking she was right.”

 

“Then send me, Madanach,” Liriel urged, moving closer and putting her arms around him. “I am the Matriarch of Matriarchs, the Hag of Hags, I hear the words of the Night Mother. She can't claim that Sithis backs her when I'm there saying otherwise. The Night Mother supports you, Madanach, she approves of you! She said you were a valuable ally and a friend! Sharreela can't say Sithis has told her otherwise, she just can't.”

 

“I don't want you to get hurt,” Madanach whispered, taking her into his arms and stroking her face. She was right, absolutely right, and it was very gratifying to hear the Night Mother liked him, but she was more than a Listener to him, always had been. She was his queen, his Dragonborn, his mighty Elven battlemage... and at night, when both put off their finery and were just a man and a woman in bed together, she was the one who made everything feel right, who made all the regret and sorrow and loneliness go away. Maybe she wasn't key to the future of the kingdom, but as far as he was concerned, she was irreplaceable to him.

 

“I have dealt with worse,” Liriel murmured in his ear, kissing his cheek. “I will be fine.”

 

“You make sure of that,” Madanach breathed. “You take care and come back to me, Dragon-Queen, you hear me?”

 

“I will,” Liriel whispered, kissing him on the lips and resting her forehead against his. Madanach made the most of it, holding her in his arms and spending a few precious moments listening to her breathing and feeling her heart beat and not having to worry about anything or anyone because he had his Liriel there to look after him.

 

All good things must come to an end though, and he stepped away, Liriel's hands in his.

 

“So what do you need, Dragon-Queen?” he asked her. “Anything you want, it's yours. Just ask.”

 

“Not a lot, just my pick of people to give me a hand,” Liriel said thoughtfully.

 

“Whatever I can spare, if they're willing, they'll go,” Madanach promised. “How many and did you have any preferences?”

 

“Not many, just -” Liriel looked around, eyes narrowing as she realised Eola and Cicero were nowhere in sight. “Hey, where'd they go?”

 

Madanach felt his blood run cold, fear warring with the urge to wring Eola's neck. The sneaky little... this was Cicero's doing. It had to be, he was clearly a bad influence. He was already starting to regret consenting to their courtship, now he was sure it was a bad idea.

 

“ _Eola!!!!_ ” he roared, voice echoing in the stone Keep's throne room. “GET BACK HERE!!!”

 

“ _Laas Yah Nir,_ ” Liriel hissed, before pointing to a discreet corner. “Over there.”

 

“GUARDS!” Madanach shouted, pointing where Liriel had. The ReachGuard detached themselves from walls and made their way over, and Eola, knowing when the game was up, emerged with Cicero behind her, both scowling.

 

“Liriel, that was not fair!” Eola cried. “I thought we were friends!”

 

“I am your stepmother and Matriarch, Eola,” Liriel snapped, advancing on Eola, flexing her fingers, in such a way that Eola could hardly miss the ugly worm-shaped ring on Liriel's finger. “Sneaking off behind your father's back is one thing, but behind mine? Shame on you! And you!” She was pointing at Cicero now, furious. “I did not give you permission to leave!”

 

Madanach could watch this all day, Liriel telling Eola and Cicero off. By Sithis, he'd missed her. It was surprising how the pair of them just backed down completely, both shuffling their feet and staring at the ground.

 

“No, Liriel. Sorry, Liriel,” from both of them. He should have had Liriel back here weeks before if this was the effect. Not for the first time, he wished he'd met her years ago. This was how it should have been with Mireen, the two of them a united force, a partnership of love and trust, raising children together. Not a stealthy war of wits, a constant struggle to protect his girls from her malice.

 

“So you should be,” Liriel said sternly. “Honestly. Well you're going to have to make it up to me, aren't you?”

 

Vigorous nodding from Cicero. “Cicero is sorry, Listener!” Cicero wailed. “Cicero will do whatever his dear Listener needs from him!”

 

“What do you need, Liriel?” was all Eola said, her voice gentle and not a trace of anything other than eagerness to please. At this rate, he'd be getting jealous of his own lover's relationship with his daughter.

 

“I'm taking down Sharreela,” said Liriel, hands on her hips. “Madanach, you said I could have my pick of your troops?”

 

“I did, but... Liriel, no!” Madanach felt all the happiness he'd felt watching Liriel fade as he realised who she wanted. “Not her, please!”

 

Eola looked up, hope in her eyes. “Liriel?” she whispered.

 

“Eola and Cicero,” Liriel announced, turning to Madanach. “That's who I need. The two deadliest fighters you have at your disposal. My brother and sister in darkness. The two to be feared. Killers without compare, both of whom have fought at my side before. That's who I want, Madanach. I won't need anyone else.”

 

“You can't,” Madanach whispered, trying not to think of Eola getting butchered by Sharreela's Briar Hearts and failing miserably. “Liriel, how could you, you know what she is to me, you know! Take Cicero with my blessing but not my Eola, please!”

 

“Madanach,” and Liriel was there again, voice soft and gentle as she took him in her arms. “Madanach, I know and I'm sorry. But Eola was right, this was as much about her as about you. You can't keep her locked up here forever. She's got to be Queen some day, that means proving to the Reach she's strong enough to rule it. Kaie spent over ten years building alliances and demonstrating she was a worthy heir. Eola has none of that. You want her to survive and thrive as Queen after you die? Let her do this. Let her prove herself.”

 

He saw the logic, of course he did. Strategically, it made perfect sense for the heir to the throne whose competence was being called into question to put down the rebellion. Madanach the King approved wholeheartedly.

 

Madanach the Father could barely think of the possibility without wanting to tear something apart. But he also knew what the job would involve when he took it on, and despite all the terrible things that had been said about him over the years, one thing he'd never been was selfish.

 

“Keep her safe, Liriel,” was all he said. “If you must do this... bring her home.”

 

“I will,” Liriel promised, and then he turned away, not sure he actually wanted to be out in public any more, just holed up in his study, staring at maps and paperwork and trying to forget about his little girl risking her life out there.

 

Hand on his shoulder and he turned, but it wasn't Liriel. Eola was looking at him, and that sightless left eye reminded him she wasn't a child any more, she'd seen combat and not died yet. All the same, he couldn't help but see his tiny little five year old child in her still.

 

“Da.”

 

“What?” he asked, really not sure how to deal with her at the moment. She had her heart set on going, he didn't want her to, he wanted to keep her by his side forever... but you couldn't dance by standing still and she was too much his daughter to be happy in captivity, he knew that.

 

“I'll bring her head back for you,” she promised, which was an odd thing to say to comfort someone and then it occurred to him that maybe she didn't know how to deal with him either.

 

“Thank you, it'll go nicely with Ulfric and the Silver-Bloods,” Madanach laughed. “When I get them back off Keirine anyway.” Sithis knew what his sister was doing with them, but she'd promised the result would be worth it. Eola grinned, rubbing his arm.

 

“Telling you not to worry won't make a bit of difference, will it?” she asked. Madanach shook his head.

 

“Don't suppose telling you to be careful will make any difference either, will it?” he said gruffly. Eola shook her head, having the grace to look sorry about it at least.

 

“I'm always careful, Da,” she told him, which Madanach could actually believe – careful not to get caught anyway. He reached out and pulled her into his arms for a hug.

 

“Don't die,” he said, holding her to him. “I used all my best material at Kaie's funeral.”

 

“I'm sure you'd think of something,” Eola laughed, kissing his cheek. “Be seeing you, Da. I've got some Hags to kill.”

 

Madanach let her go with just a wave of his hand, then his eyes fell on Cicero, still hanging around nervously, watching him as Eola went to join Liriel.

 

“As for you, Garra-Lann, you make sure she comes back alive or don't ever bother showing your face in this city again, you hear me?”

 

“Yes sir,” Cicero breathed, nodding very enthusiastically. “Cicero shall look after her. Cicero shall _murder them all!_ ” Manic grin and bizarrely, Madanach relaxed just a little. Liriel, he worried about constantly. Eola drove him near insane with terror and worry. Cicero... Cicero he was quite confident could kill anything he set his sights on, and he appeared quite devoted to Eola. Maybe, just maybe, they might win this one.

 

But until they did, he'd worry non-stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Eola, Liriel and Cicero take the fight to Lost Valley, and Eola very much has a Point To Prove. It may get a bit violent and bloody, but you'd expect nothing less, right?


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eola has a point to prove and she's going to do it in style. Liriel and Cicero are along to give her a hand, but things prove tougher than Liriel anticipated, leading Madanach to come to a decision.

Eola swept out of the Keep, eager to get out there and get this over with. Weak? Changeling?? Unworthy??

Absolutely not. Eola ap Madanach was none of those things, as Sharreela was about to find out. Eola ap Madanach was a true child of the Reach-King, a Matriarch's daughter who'd picked up a few things from her mother even if said mother had hated her for not being a boy and yet too like her father. Eola ap Madanach was a Dark Sister and the Anointed of Namira, and now she had food in her belly again, that connection to the Lady of Decay, Mother of the Wretched, was as strong as it ever was. 

So it was she barely noticed Liriel stepping smoothly out of the way and falling into line behind her, didn't even notice the grin on the elf's face. She barely even heard Cicero's giggling as he ran to keep up with her. Eola was a woman on a mission.

At least until she emerged into the marketplace and saw everyone turn to look at her. Hogni at his meat stall turning from where he was serving some cuts of meat to Hroki from the Hag's Rest, Kerah at the jewellery stall talking to her husband Endon, Adara behind him kicking her heels, Degaine trying to cadge a few septims as per usual, Imedhnain and Cosnach carting in Lisbet's latest shipment and Lisbet at her store door checking it over before signing for it all, and various members of the ReachGuard on patrol. All had stopped what they were doing as they'd seen her emerge, and if any of them recognised the red and black Shrouds of the Brotherhood, no one was mentioning it. 

“What?” she snapped, glaring at them. “Something in my hair?”

Shuffling of feet and hasty looking away from Nord, Redguard and Reachman alike. Only Lisbet was brave enough to speak.

“Eola, you're up! We'd heard you were ill...”

“I got better,” Eola shrugged. “And I have an important job to do so if you'll excuse me...” 

“Princess!” And that was Kerah, looking terrified but also desperate enough to conquer that fear. Eola inclined her head even as Endon started hissing at his wife to leave well alone.

“Kerah?” Eola asked, wondering what this was about. “What's up?”

“Is – is it true?” Kerah demanded, getting bravery from somewhere. “Have the Forsworn really sacked Old Hroldan?”

Murmur through all present as everyone subconsciously backed away from Kerah and the ReachGuard readied spells, just in case. Clearly word was spreading – well, you try keeping a lid on something like that. At least someone had been brave enough to ask, which meant Eola might as well answer. She glanced at Liriel, who nodded back. 

“Old Hroldan was sacked and destroyed in the night by rogue elements in the ReachGuard, yes,” Eola sighed. “No, Da didn't know and didn't authorise it, but thanks to Skuli ap Eydis getting away and finding us, we know who was responsible. Matriarch Sharreela of Lost Valley's decided Madanach's sold the Forsworn out and is challenging him.”

Shocked whispers around the crowd, all of whom looked terrified. Maybe they weren't gung-ho supporters of her father just yet, but Hogni and Lisbet would give him the benefit of the doubt for her sake, and as for the others, three months of him as King and the sky had yet to fall in. Until now.

“Are they coming here?” Hroki asked, shooting nervous glances at the ReachGuards nearest her. “Oh gods, how many of them are there??”

“It's just one camp,” Eola said, trying to sound gentle and reassuring and invoking Namira's gifts, yes, let Namira's Whisper flow, let the prey be reassured and pliant, can't have the herd getting spooked, can we now? “All the others are led by people loyal to Madanach, it's just the one camp. I'm going out there now to deal with the traitors. You're quite safe. Have faith in me, Hroki. I am your Princess, I will protect you.”

“You are my Princess. You'll protect me,” Hroki whispered, hope returning to her eyes. She shook herself, the trance fading but the after-effects remaining. “But... but won't it be dangerous? What if it goes wrong?”

“Of course it'll be dangerous,” Eola said, dropping the Whisper and returning to her more usual voice. “That's why I'm going. We can't have innocent lives being risked on this venture, can we? The King wants this resolved with the minimum of bloodshed and so he's only sending the very best to take her on and exact justice in his name. He's sending me.”

Surprise from a great number of people, including far too many of the guard for Eola's liking. Namira's teeth, she'd been right. Too many people thought she was some pampered weakling. About time she flexed her claws.

“But you're jus' a girl,” Degaine slurred, staring fiercely at her, although it could just be the drink blurring his vision. “Wha' can you do agains' a camp of Forsworn anna Hag?”

Eola just smiled her sweetest smile and raised her hands, angling them just so. Degaine barely had time to widen his eyes before twin lightning bolts flashed out, crossing over right in front of his face and only just avoiding him. Shrieks from those watching, and Eola lowered her hands, trying not to smirk too much. She was Daddy's little girl all right.

“I will do that and more, except with Sharreela, I will not miss,” said Eola calmly. “I will also have the Davrha-Brenhina and the Garra-Lann at my side, and I assure you they will not miss either. I will have the power of dragons rained down on Lost Valley, death brought to them with a laugh and a smile, and then I will rend them limb from limb and rip their hearts out, and the world will know the folly of challenging the Reach-King's power and that Eola Rhan-Brenyeen is his true and worthy heir. Are there any further questions?” 

There were none. Just a stunned silence, and Eola decided her point had been sufficiently well-made. She glanced at Liriel and saw satisfied approval there, and that warmed her heart, and then she felt warm breath on her ear and turned to see Cicero there, eyes wide and grin even wider, his cheeks a little flushed and pupils dilated and she could tell what was going through his mind. 

“Sweetling,” Cicero breathed, voice low and needy and by Namira, she could kiss him right there if she was sure it wouldn't lead to them having sex right there in the market. “Cicero had no idea you could be so firm and commanding. Sweet Eola should do that more often!”

“Come on,” Eola laughed, turning away. “Let's get going. Stabbing first, then sex, hmm?” Cicero clapped his hands and giggled in delight and followed her as she headed for the gate, Liriel falling in and joining them, grin on her own face. She'd just got to the gate when she heard the cry.

“All Hail Eola! Go get 'em, Princess!”

That was Hogni, bless the man. Definitely getting blood-brotherhood one day if he kept this up.

“You show that evil witch, Eola! You give her what-for!” Lisbet shouted.

“Yes! You tell 'em, Princess Eola!” And that was little Adara. Eola turned round and saw the little girl staring at her in absolute awe. “You're magic, you can do anything! Turn her into a toad!”

“Don't know about a toad, but a little pile of smoking ash, I can do that!” Eola laughed, and that got a laugh from most of them. 

“Good luck, Eola!”

“You can do it, Princess!”

“She won't know what hit her!”

She wouldn't indeed. Eola punched the air and gave one last wave as she led Liriel and Cicero out of Markarth. Time to go murder a Hag.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Lost Valley wasn't exactly close to Markarth – easily the most isolated of the camps, right out at the Reach's eastern border, a good four hours from Markarth. No wonder the rebellion was happening here – Madanach's forces were stretched thin out here and no one would have been checking up on the camp. No one but the Legion troops at Fort Sungard, and how were outsider soldiers meant to keep tabs on Forsworn warriors who knew the land like the back of their hand and were adept at disappearing into the wilds? They didn't, of course, which was why Sharreela's troops had struck with impunity.

Not after today, they wouldn't. Eola led the way, leaving the road as Lost Valley Falls came into view, fording the river and heading up the mountain trail that led to the camp. All three of them had headgear hiding their faces – Shrouded Cowls for Eola and Liriel, a Forsworn headdress for Cicero that obscured his Imperial features and hid that red hair of his. 

Eola approached the camp entrance, fists clenched in the Forsworn gesture of non-hostility. Guards stepped out of nowhere, weapons raised.

“Names and business, outsiders,” one called to them, her tone of voice indicating she could guess exactly why they were there.

“Names don't matter,” Eola said tersely. “We are the children of Sithis. We've come for Sharreela.”

No surprise on any of the guards' faces, although one did disappear, presumably to find Sharreela herself. The guards didn't waver, but behind them another man loomed up, his topless armour showing off his chest cavity to full effect. The camp Briar Heart.

“So Madanach is too afraid to come himself,” the Briar Heart laughed. “He has sent his lackeys in the Dark Brotherhood instead. I'm very disappointed, but not terribly surprised. Leave, little assassins. Go back to the traitor King and his lowborn changeling and tell them we will not stop fighting until the Empire have been forced back, until every last outsider in the Reach is dead and the Nord filth purged from our land. Tell Madanach we won't be satisfied until we have his head on a pike and his Elven whore's been made to service us all.”

Next to her, Eola could hear Liriel catch her breath, whether in horror or rage, she didn't know but she knew Liriel well enough to know that the elf wasn't going to take that lying down. 

“Show your faces, friends,” she said, glancing at Cicero and Liriel. Both nodded and Liriel and Eola peeled their cowls off, while Cicero lifted his headdress off and replaced it with the famous jester hat.

Eola couldn't swear to it, but she was sure some of the guards were looking nervous, and a few onlookers from the rest of the camp had gone a bit pale.

“I am Eola ap Madanach,” Eola announced, raising her voice. “Those of you who were at Windhelm may recognise Liriel Davrha-Brenhina and Cicero Garra-Lann. We are here because my father doesn't think it worth his time to take you seriously and waste the lives of his loyal troops on you. We are here in the name of the Night Mother, the Hag of Hags, because she saw Madanach deal with the betrayer of her children for her and called him friend, and we will not brook harm to him. Now my father would like this done with a minimum of bloodshed, but I think he mostly meant on his side. We're here for Sharreela and for those loyal to her, no one else. Send her down, and we'll take her head and our leave.”

All the gathered Forsworn had gone very still, all eyes flickering to the Briar Heart, who was looking distinctly worried. His eyes seemed to stop, a vacant look appearing as he communed back with the Hag who'd made him. Then the life returned and he glared at Eola with unadulterated hatred.

“The caged bird has claws,” he snarled at her. “But so do ravens and our claws are as sharp as yours, little egret. Go back to your father and wait for your death, Eola the Runaway. The Hawk of Karthspire has grown old and feeble, the best of his line are dead and your days are numbered. Go, go back to Markarth or flee the Reach now, go wherever you were all this time. You are not Sharreela's equal.”

“Cicero doesn't like him,” Eola heard Cicero mutter. “Cicero wants to see if they really do fall over dead when you prise their Briar Hearts out.”

“They really do,” Liriel muttered back. “But let's let Eola finish first, hmm?”

Eola bit back a smile. This camp was about to regret this – for all the Briar Heart's bravado, she could see real fear on the faces of some of the others.

“I am not Sharreela's equal, you are quite right,” Eola purred. “I am more than a match for her on my own, and I have with me the two deadliest fighters in Skyrim. You think you stand a chance? You will die this day if you persist with this foolishness. But I'm merciful. Those of you loyal to my father still, gather your things and leave. I will be waiting by the road to take your oaths of fealty on his behalf. Anyone remaining in this camp, I will rend your flesh and water the ground with your blood. You have one hour.”

With that, Eola turned and walked away, Liriel and Cicero following.

“Is – is that it?” Cicero whispered to Liriel, disappointed. “Cicero had hoped for stabbing...”

“Of course that's not it,” Liriel purred, stroking his hair. “That was just the prelude. Come on. I imagine we'll have some oath-taking to do and then... then it's time to fight.”

Cackling with excitement, Cicero ran after her and Eola. The best was yet to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not even fifteen minutes had passed when the first of them came. Younger Forsworn, not even out of their teens, and older ones, couples, dragging their children behind them or carrying babies in their arms, and a few pregnant women. The parents and those not of age, those who may or may not agree with Madanach but apparently didn't want to see their children die. 

“Please, we're sorry!” the first one cried, a young woman in her early twenties, two toddlers clinging to her, eyes wide and solemn. “We didn't – we didn't think... Sharreela said he'd grown weak after Kaie died! And – and that you were no true Forsworn, you could barely get out of bed, let alone fight! We didn't realise – oh Sithis, we didn't know you were a Dark Sister, we didn't know he'd send the Garra-Lann, please Princess, please have mercy, kill me if you want but please, please don't hurt my babies, please!”

“Your name,” was all Eola said. 

“Shella ap Carlona,” the woman whispered, on her knees and not daring to meet Eola's eyes. Eola nodded, recalling the oath she'd been mentally drafting on the way up here.

“Shella ap Carlona. Do you swear undying loyalty to Madanach ap Caradach Rhan-Brenin, King of the Reach, Custodian of the Mournful Throne and Heir of Red Eagle?”

“I swear it,” Shella whispered, tears rolling down her face. Eola nodded, cruel smile on her lips.

“And do you swear your life and service to the House of Madanach and its heirs, to fight at their call and render lawful tribute to them as your rightful lieges?”

“I swear it,” Shella said quietly.

“Do you agree to be bound until Sithis claims you or the world ends, choosing death before failing in this your oath?”

A pause. Then Shella nodded.

“I agree to be bound. My life is yours, Princess.”

Eola felt relief kick in as she realised she could do this. She'd just heard an oath of fealty on behalf of her father, and it had been given voluntarily, not because Madanach had ordered it to be so. She wasn't helpless or trapped. She could really do this, really be Reach-Queen one day. She looked up at Liriel and felt her heart skip at the gentle smile she saw there, the look of pride in the Altmer's eyes. 

“I'm glad to hear it,” Eola purred. “Go, take yourself to Markarth, from the look of it you won't be alone. Present yourselves to my father at Understone Keep, tell him you've sworn your service to me and forsaken Sharreela. He'll find a use for you. Go on, I've got a lot of you to get through.”

“Thank you, my liege,” Shella whispered, head bowed in submission as she shepherded her children away. Eola settled herself on a nearby rock and beckoned the next little group forward. And so it went, Forsworn after Forsworn coming forward on their knees, all swearing fealty to the House of Madanach, all claiming Sharreela had lied to them, had said she was no warrior, had said her father had lost his mind after Kaie's death. All pleading for mercy, all pledging their lives, all absolutely terrified she'd hurt them or their children. It was absolutely delightful, if a little unnerving. All these people willing to do whatever she wanted. Frightening, really. But gratifying. She wanted to scream to the skies, shout to her mother's shade “see? See what I made of myself, see?” But Mireen was gone beyond and would never hear it. Her father though – she still had her father, and she had a feeling he'd be very proud.

At length it was done, and the troop of newly-sworn in Forsworn were off on their way to Markarth.

“Do you think that went well?” Eola asked, hoping she'd done the right thing. She was by no means certain how Madanach was going to react to a whole band of erstwhile traitors turning up at Markarth, but she'd scribbled a hasty note to him with her rune seal emblazoned on it – a glowing letter E surrounded by a snake eating its own tail – telling him they'd sworn loyalty to her, please to look after them for her and find them somewhere to live. It would have to do. Even Madanach wouldn't order the city guard to murder them all in front of the citizens of Markarth, right?

“You were perfect,” Liriel assured her, squeezing her shoulder, still that proud, motherly smile in place that made Eola want to snuggle into her arms for a cuddle. “Your father is going to be so proud of you.”

“Cicero is bored,” Cicero announced, scuffing his boots on the ground, looking anything but proud. “Cicero was promised stabbing. Why hasn't there been any stabbing?”

Trust Cicero to ruin the mood. Eola rolled her eyes.

“We gotta do this the right way, Cicero. We've got to have formalities. We have to at least look like we're willing to negotiate. But the hour's long gone, and I'm sure there's still people in that camp. Alas, seeing as they're still there, I'm afraid that means they're traitors. You know what we do to traitors, don't you, Cicero.”

“STAB THEM!” Cicero howled, clapping gleefully. “Kill the filthy Hagraven!”

“Kill 'em and eat 'em,” Eola purred. By Namira, she loved Cicero. A man of very simple tastes and straightforward pleasures and that suited her just fine. She didn't consider herself a terribly complicated person either. The hunt was all... and her prey awaited.

“Ready, Liriel?” Eola asked, turning to the elf.

“Almost,” Liriel said cheerfully. “I just need to call in our air support.”

“Air support?” Eola said, confused. She turned to Cicero, who was cackling in unabashed delight as he skipped alongside her.

“Watch this, sister, you will enjoy this!” Cicero giggled. Liriel stopped, drew herself up to her full height and threw her head back to Shout.

“OD-AH-VIING!”

Silence for a few minutes, then a silhouette near the Throat of the World and then wind sweeping down the valley and a dark shape rushing overhead, dragon roar echoing off the crags.

“Did you just summon a...” Eola said, feeling a little lightheaded at the sight of the huge red beast whirling around and sweeping in on Lost Valley. Liriel just grinned, reaching for her cowl.

“They call me the Queen of Dragons for a reason,” Liriel laughed, drawing Dawnbreaker and casting her mage armour. “Now then, assassins. Let's kill someone!”

“Hail Sithis!” Cicero shrieked, producing his axes and charging into the melee. Eola cast her mage armour and drew her sword, feeling her own bloodlust rising. Time indeed to start the slaughter. This particular meal was past time for serving.

“Glory to Namira!” she cried, summoning an Atronach. Chasing after the other two, she called lightning to her free hand. She'd show them who was weak.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Dragon fire blazed through the sky as tents burned and Forsworn died screaming. In amidst the fire, the children of Sithis darted, Eola and Liriel's magic cutting a brutal swathe through the chaos while Cicero, covered head to toe in Forsworn blood, howled and laughed as his axes carved their way through.

With Odahviing dealing with most of the camp for them, Eola, Liriel and Cicero finally made their way to where Sharreela was waiting, chanting over a Briar Heart warrior with her sister Danella.

“Game's up, Sharreela!” Liriel shouted. “Madanach wants this camp brought into line, so here we are. Surrender and we'll make it quick.”

“He risks his Dragon-Queen and his little Brenyeen,” the Hagraven hissed over her shoulder. “He risks much.”

“Sithis will not claim us today, Sharreela,” Eola laughed. “The Night Mother herself calls Madanach friend. The Dread Father surely has not backed you against him.”

To Eola's surprise, Sharreela threw back her head, cackling. “Oh child. Dear child. Little brat of Mireen's. If I die today, I die. It matters not. All I need to do to win is take you with me!” Twin fireballs flew from her hands, straight into Eola. She fell back, crying out in pain, dropping and rolling to put the fire out and not even her innate magic resistance saving her from all the damage. Behind Sharreela, Danella sent magic into the Briar Heart, and the Forsworn warrior rose from the altar, grabbing two gleaming black ebony war axes and preparing to fight. 

It looked bad. It looked very bad. Eola down, two Hagravens and a Briar Heart advancing on her – but Liriel still had her magic and she still had Cicero.

“CICERO SHALL RIP YOU APART, FILTHY HAG!” Cicero howled, springing straight on to Sharreela before her magicka could recharge. Her claws tore into him even as his daggers sank into her, but Liriel couldn't think about that right now. She had other more important things to think about, such as the fact her Highborn gift had worn off, her magicka was running low, Odahviing was still dealing with the rest of the camp and her Thu'um had yet to recharge. Oh yes and there was a Briar Heart and a Hagraven making straight for her. 

She grabbed a scroll from her pocket and screamed the contents, a Storm Atronach materialising by her side. While it dealt with the Hagraven, Liriel turned her attention to the Briar Heart. 

“My Matriarch commands your death, false queen,” the Briar Heart cried, eyes afire with hate as he raced towards her. Liriel cast a flame cloak with the last of her magicka, drew her swords and prepared to fight. Dawnbreaker did well, landing blows and causing her opponent's skin to blaze, but with her magicka depleted, there was no getting away from the fact this man was as good as she was at hand-to-hand and possibly better. She darted and dodged and tried to land blows, but he seemed to shrug them off, and then it happened. She was tired, he got lucky and as she dived forward with Dawnbreaker, his ebony axe bit into her side and sent her flying, blood everywhere. Liriel staggered to the ground, dazed, in agony, vision blurring and damn, she needed more magicka, where was her pack, she had loads of magicka potions in that, she was sure... The Briar Heart was standing above her, axes raised to strike the final blow.

On the other side of the altar, someone in black armour had dual cast fireballs at Danella, sending the Hag flying off the cliff, and as the Briar Heart's eyes flicked left, they'd made a grab for something on the altar.

“What are you – no!” the Briar Heart shouted. Eola just grinned, his old heart in her hands.

“From the Void you came, to the Void you return. I took your heart, now see it consumed!” She raised it to her lips and tore into it with teeth made sharp by her connection to Namira, blood spurting everywhere but Eola didn't care.

“But you are no Matriarch, how-?” Sharreela howled, before Cicero took advantage of the distraction and slit her throat with his dagger. The Briar Heart clutched his chest, screaming in pain, and as Eola swallowed down pieces of his heart, he sank to the ground and keeled over, breathing his last. Just to be on the safe side, Liriel cut the straps holding the briar in his chest and pocketed it, before collapsing on the ground. Done, it was done, Madanach was safe, the Reach was safe, now if the world could just come back into focus... Closing her eyes, heedless of Cicero's cries or just how cold it was getting, Liriel closed her eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she finally awoke, she was in a bed, wounds bandaged, healing potions by the bed, stone above her, clearly in a fort somewhere. Her eyes weren't focusing properly, but she could swear something red and white was sitting at her side, and was that an argument in the background? Two women arguing about... something?

“You are not taking her back to Solitude! She is a citizen of the Reach, a member of the royal family, she's coming back to Markarth with me!”

“I beg to differ, Princess, she's a Legate of the Legion, injured in battle, and last I heard she'd not actually got around to marrying your father, had she?” And that was Rikke, no doubt about it whatsoever. “So as soon as she's well enough to be moved, she's coming back with me. I'll need her report anyway, may as well hear it on the way.”

“You don't need her report,” Eola retorted. “We had eyewitness testimony from the sole survivor of the attack on Old Hroldan that Sharreela of Lost Valley was behind all the attacks. The Reach-King authorised me to deal with the problem, I have done so with assistance from Rhan-Hir Cicero and Liriel Brenhina here. Now I need to return to Markarth and report to my father that the rebellion's been put down, and I will need to be taking Liriel with me. He'll be most anxious to have her back.”

Yes, yes he probably would, oh gods, what had happened and where in Oblivion was she?

“Eola?” she whispered, her throat dry as she tried to focus. The red figure at her side immediately turned round, taking her by the shoulders and lowering her back on to the bed.

“Hush, hush, Listener must rest!” Cicero whispered. “Listener was hurt, hurt very badly! Listener lost much blood before Eola could seal your wounds! Listener is lucky, very lucky indeed that the Legion saw the battle and came to investigate.”

“Legion?” Liriel whispered. “But Rikke said I was investigating! What's she doing here?”

“Cicero doesn't know,” said Cicero, shrugging. “Cicero is sure she had absolute faith in the sweet Listener's ability to handle things and was in no way mustering troops here at Fort Sungard just in case all went horribly wrong and she had to depose sweet Madanach after all.”

Well, wasn't that Rikke all over, although Liriel couldn't blame her for being cautious and wanting to have troops at the ready, just in case.

“Where's Eola?” Liriel gasped. “Get her over here.” Cicero grinned and obliged.

“Sweetling!” he cooed, half-skipping, half-gliding over to Eola and spooning her from behind. “Pretty Eola, dearest Eola, sweet Liriel is awake!”

That had both Eola and Rikke's attention, and soon both women were leaning over her, Eola kneeling by her side and taking her hand while Rikke stood over her.

“Liriel, you're awake!” Eola cried. “How are you feeling?”

“Awful,” Liriel whispered, trying to sit up again before the world span and she immediately lay down again. “Gods, what happened?”

“You got carved up by two poisoned ebony war axes,” Eola told her, stroking her cheek. “You're lucky to be alive. If your armour wasn't poison resistant... I don't think you would be.” Eola squeezed her hand, relief all over her face. Liriel felt her blood go cold as she realised how close she'd come to dying. 

“I need to get out of here,” Liriel whispered, her children's faces dancing before her, and Madanach, oh gods, Madanach, he must be worried sick by now. “How long have I been out? We should have been back in Markarth hours ago!”

“Soldier,” and that was Rikke, arms folded and glaring sternly down at her. “You're still not well. You're going nowhere. Now, if you're feeling up to talking, are you able to report?”

Liriel nodded. She could give Rikke the news she was waiting for anyway. 

“We did it. Put down the rebellion. It's as Eola said, rogue elements in the Forsworn turning traitor. Lost Valley was the core of it – all the other camps are run by Madanach's people. You won't have any further trouble. Madanach's not the Empire's biggest fan but he knows he's got no future as king otherwise.”

Rikke nodded, face softening just a little. “Good, glad to hear it. I'd rather not declare war on the Reach if I'm honest. General Tullius and I had lots of plans for taking it back from the Stormcloaks and there wasn't one that didn't look set to cost us dearly. Against a man who knows the territory by heart and whose troops can move undetected? I'm fairly certain it would have taken us years to win.”

“You'd never have won,” said Liriel, smiling despite the weariness threatening to overcome her. “Taken Markarth, perhaps. But you'd never have won.”

“'You'?” Rikke queried, raising an eyebrow. “You'd not have joined that fight, Legate?”

“Let's just say I'd have retired on health grounds,” Liriel purred, closing her eyes. “Like I think I'm going to after all this. Can – can you send a dispatch to Markarth? Tell Madanach I'm all right? He'll be worried...”

“I'll see to it, Liriel,” Eola interrupted. “You get some rest. Don't you worry, cariad. Everything's gonna be just fine...”

Just fine... Before Liriel started to wonder if Eola was using that Daedric mesmerism of hers on her, sleep claimed her and she drifted off into unconsciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Liriel didn't remember a lot of what followed over the next few days. Most of it she spent sleeping and resting, Legion healers tending to her. Cicero wasn't there and nor was Eola, but Rikke assured her they'd be back soon and yes, she'd sent word to Madanach, not to worry. Then Cicero was back, cooing over his sweet Listener, dearest Listener, not to fret over a thing, Cicero was here to look after her and dear Eola was on her way back to Markarth to make sure Madanach didn't do anything rash.

Then there came the long carriage journey to Solitude and Liriel slept through most of that too, Cicero by her side the whole time, back in his motley and it was amazing how few people disturbed her when a grinning, singing jester was watching over her, turning eyes like the Void on anyone who dared disturb his precious Listener's rest.

She was just about well enough to walk back to Proudspire Manor, leaning on Cicero the whole way, at least until they ran into Sissel and Lucia in the market, who clung on to her in shock at how ill she looked. It took all her maternal skills of persuasion to get them to fetch Jordis, who came from the house, took one look at her and picked her up, carrying her back over her shoulder, all the while chiding her for being up in that condition and Cicero for letting her walk anywhere. That had been three days ago, and Liriel hadn't left the house since, in fact she'd barely left her room. Jordis and Cicero between them had tended to her every need, and she'd been able to sit up outside her room for a few hours every day with the girls reading to her and telling her all the latest Solitude gossip. Argis had visited too – Elisif was busy organising the wedding, but she'd sent her best wishes and some healing potions. Argis had handed them over and then just hugged Liriel in silence. All he'd been able to say was a choked 'thank you'. Liriel had told him not to mention it and she hoped she was getting a wedding invitation. Argis had laughed at that and said of course. 

Now it was the morning of the fourth day since her arrival in Solitude and Liriel was warm, comfortable and opening her eyes in the sunshine. Very warm in fact, too warm, and then she realised she wasn't alone in the bed. Someone was spooning her from behind, an arm around her waist – too big to be one of the girls, and while Cicero was affectionate enough, he'd never crawl into the bed with her while she slept.

“Wha-?” she began, turning over. To no real surprise, Madanach sat up, circlet off but fully dressed in a set of crumpled but otherwise quite nice clothes. He was lying on top of the covers, dark circles under his eyes and looking like he'd not slept much the night before, but he was smiling.

“Hello there, my Liriel,” he murmured, tracing a finger down her cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“What are you doing here??” Liriel whispered. “Shouldn't you be in Markarth?”

“The Reach will do fine without me for a few days,” Madanach said, little shrug of the shoulders. “Nepos has things well in hand, and as Eola seems to be proving more than capable just lately, I've left her there to help. Cariad, what happened? Eola told me you'd been badly hurt and the General's report was less than reassuring, although she seems to believe I'm not planning open revolt at least.”

“I'm not sure,” said Liriel, trying to recall just what had happened after Lost Valley. “Sharreela had a Briar Heart there and he was tougher than I'd thought. I was low on magicka and couldn't Shout either. Eola killed him and I don't remember much after that. Then the Legion turned up and Rikke had me sent back here. I told her to write to you, and Eola said she'd be sure to tell you everything...”

Madanach had drawn closer, pulling her into his arms, pushing the covers away, fingers tracing the thin scars that were all that Liriel had left to show for her ordeal. Eola had done a good job sealing the wounds, although she'd not been able to do a lot about the blood loss.

“Eola told me you nearly died,” he whispered, cradling her against him, and Liriel nestled against his chest, remembering just how nice it felt being in his arms. “When none of you came back that night... I thought I'd lost you all.”

“Madanach,” Liriel whispered, hating the way his voice shook with emotion. “I'm so sorry.”

“Don't be, it's not your fault,” he told her. “The Legion courier arrived the next day with Rikke's letter telling me you'd uncovered the source of the bandit attacks and dealt with them, and that you'd been injured in the fight and were being sent back to Solitude. I'd have gone after you straight away but Nepos calmed me down and reminded me that Eola had yet to report in and thanks to her, I also had a hundred or so Forsworn camped outside Markarth, all pleading for mercy and claiming that they in no way backed Sharreela who had clearly lied to them and in a few cases threatened their families. I'm still not sure what to do with them, but Eola assures me she heard their oaths of loyalty personally, they know what'll happen if they break them. I can only imagine.”

Liriel couldn't help but smile at that. “She's definitely your daughter,” she whispered. Madanach laughed at that.

“Of course she is. Whatever Mireen's faults, she never gave me reason to believe her unfaithful. She was far too obsessed with me for that. Eola's my girl all right. Anyway, I've got Nepos splitting them up and dividing them amongst loyal camps, and having my loyal camps send some people to what's left of Lost Valley to repopulate it – it's a key location, I'm not having it unguarded.”

Not a surprise – not only was it his border outpost on the south road into the Reach, a location that could strike into Whiterun and Falkreath under the Legion's nose was one worth keeping.

“Was it the only camp involved?” Liriel asked, trying to recall what they'd discussed back in Markarth after she'd first brought news of the danger. “You thought two others might be in on it.”

“Bleakwind Bluff and Serpent's Bluff,” said Madanach, grinning. “Well, Eola presented me with some incriminating letters found at Lost Valley from the Matriarchs at both camps, and not long after she'd got back to Markarth, I had a delegation from both places turn up to see me. Apparently some intrepid soul crept into Serpent's Bluff the night after Lost Valley fell, disposed of a few of their guards without making a sound, killed their Matriarch in her sleep and stole her cache of hearts. Next day, Eola and Cicero turned up at the camp with a few troops from Sundered Towers at their back, and Eola demanded immediate surrender or she'd destroy the hearts in front of them. I don't know if you know this, Liriel, probably not, but the ultimate sanction for a Matriarch to carry out on a Briar Heart who's displeased her is to get their heart out of the box and consume it – Hag teeth and claws are sharp enough to do it, no problem. Ordinary humans shouldn't be able to, which is why they laughed and refused. Right up until my Eola, and she still won't tell me how or comment on it other than to reassure me she's not seeking Ascension, apparently ripped one of the hearts to pieces in front of them all with just her nails and teeth and ate the damn thing. I'm not sure I actually want to know any more than that, but whatever she did, it worked. They surrendered on the spot, and the delegation that came to Markarth actually begged me to keep her away from them, they were sorry, they'd do anything.” Madanach was looking at Liriel at this point, eyebrow raised. “Can I ask exactly how you found her and what she's been doing all these years?”

“You can,” said Liriel, snuggling into his chest to avoid actually meeting his eyes at this point. “I'm not answering though. Whatever she's been learning out there is her business, and like I said, I met her while she was hiding out in Markarth, helped her kill some Draugr so she could move back into that cave she'd been hiding out in, and we've been friends ever since. She's been my cultural advisor on the Forsworn.”

“Cultural advisor?” Madanach snorted. “I should say so. The woman's a born politician. Sithis knows how she found the balls to rip a human heart to pieces with her teeth, but she managed it and now everyone thinks she's got power on a par with any Matriarch. Creenitha, they're calling her, Heart-Eater.”

“Suits her,” Liriel whispered, stifling a giggle. Madanach just growled, holding her tighter.

“She'll be more feared than I am at this rate, in fact people now think I'm the sane and reasonable one. I'm not sure whether to be appalled or impressed.”

“But they'll never call her weak again, will they?” Liriel said softly. “Whatever problems she might face in the future, the Forsworn not taking her seriously will never be one of them, will it?”

“No,” said Madanach, and on glancing up at him, Liriel could tell from the faint smile on his face that the part of him that was an old-style Forsworn warlord had won out and decided that an heir the entire Reach was in terrified awe of was a very good thing to have indeed. “No, she'll never have that problem. She told me she wasn't planning to make a habit of it, not now she'd made her point. By the gods, Liriel, my daughter's going to be an unchallenged, undisputed Reach-Queen.” He hugged her again, and Liriel could swear there were tears in his eyes. 

“Yes,” Liriel whispered, taking him in her arms. “Yes she is.” Not only had Eola proved her worth, she'd even managed to find a socially acceptable outlet for the cannibalism. Hagravens ate human flesh, everyone knew that. By equating herself in the minds of the Forsworn with a Hagraven, Eola had managed to arrange things in such a way that any other flesh-eating exploits could easily fly under the radar. Cunning. Very cunning indeed. 

Footsteps outside then hammering on the door.

“Mama!” Sissel cried. “Mama, there's Reach Guards everywhere! One on the front door and the cellar door and the patio door and two in the kitchen and a great big Orc talking to Jordis and Uncle Cicero!”

“How many people did you bring exactly?” Liriel asked and Madanach had the grace to look a little embarrassed. 

“Can't have the Nords thinking I'm an easy target, can we?” he muttered. Liriel could only roll his eyes.

“It's fine, Sissel, they're meant to be here,” Liriel called back. “They're guests.”

Sissel pushed the door open, stuck her head round the door and gasped to see Madanach lying there, eyes wide and her mouth open.

“Oh! You're here! Lucia, Lucia, come and see, come and see, it's King Madanach!”

“It is,” Madanach said, letting Liriel go and lying back on the pillows. “Hello again, ap Lirielai.”

Lucia ran in behind her sister and both girls clambered on to the bed, Lucia cuddling up behind Liriel while Sissel crawled in between Liriel and Madanach.

“Are you getting married to Mama, is that why you're here?” Lucia asked shyly.

“Are you coming to live here?” Sissel asked, ever hopeful. “Will you do magic tricks again? Will you, will you, please?”

Madanach raised both eyebrows, glanced at Liriel then grinned at Sissel.

“You're the little Nord that wants to be a wizard, aren't you? Sissel, isn't it?”

“You remember me!” Sissel cried, delighted that the King of the Reach himself knew who she was. Madanach looked up, caught Liriel's eye and Liriel couldn't help but smile. She knew he'd be good with the kids, she just knew it. 

“Of course I do, I don't go around saving just anyone from the Dark Brotherhood,” Madanach replied, turning on his most charming smile. “Only special young children like yourselves.”

“Special? Us?” Lucia asked, frowning and looking a little suspicious. Liriel felt a little proud of Lucia for not immediately falling for the charm. Madanach also didn't seem bothered by her scepticism.

“Your mother thinks you're special,” he told her. “And I think your mother is a very intelligent woman with excellent taste, so she must be right, hmm?”

Lucia wasn't sure what to say to that, just cuddling Liriel and looking a little apprehensive still.

“Are you marrying Mama?” she asked pensively. Madanach nodded once, guessing this was the child he'd have to work to win over.

“Yes, if she'll have me. Is that going to be a problem?”

Lucia shook her head. “No, but... you have to be nice to her! You have to be nice and kind and good to Mama or... or I'll get Uncle Cicero to stab you!”

Liriel made a mental note to have a word with Cicero about the sort of things he said in front of her daughters in future. Fortunately, Madanach didn't seem offended.

“I promise I will be nothing short of the best husband in Tamriel,” Madanach assured her solemnly. “Liriel shall be Queen of the Reach and be the most adored and spoilt woman in Tamriel, and you and your sister shall have whatever you need.”

“Oh!” Lucia whispered. “Oh, you don't need to worry, I don't need much, just somewhere to sleep.”

“You don't need food or clothes?” Madanach asked, smiling a little. “That will save me a fortune on my food bill, but I don't recommend walking around Markarth naked. There's laws against that. I should know, I wrote them.”

Lucia blushed and hid behind Liriel, who turned around and cuddled her.

“There, there, he's just teasing, you can have as many things to eat and clothes to wear as you like,” Liriel soothed her. Lucia did smile a little at that, snuggling in to her mother.

“What about books?” she whispered. “And music lessons? Jorn was teaching me how to play the lute – I don't suppose I'll be able to have lessons in Markarth. Is Jordis coming with us?”

“I really need her here to look after the Manor,” said Liriel dubiously. “But we'll definitely be visiting – Madanach's son lives here, after all.”

“I should really drop in and see him,” Madanach mused to himself. “Can take these two as well if you like, get them out of your hair?”

“That'd be nice,” said Liriel sleepily. She loved her daughters but more than a few hours of their company tended to wear her out. 

“Yay, we're going to see Uncle Argis!” Sissel cried. “Lucia and me and...” She stopped, looking at Madanach curiously. “What do we call you, sir?”

Lucia looked up from her mother's arms. “If you're marrying Mama, does that make you our papa?” she asked, looking a bit worried about the prospect now the reality was right there in front of her. Madanach actually hesitated, looking nervously at her. That was something, Madanach looking unsure of himself. Liriel decided to rescue the poor man.

“I've not married him yet,” she told Lucia. “But seeing as I'm going to, I think it'd be fine to just call him Madanach. It is his name after all.”

“Madanach,” Sissel repeated, not entirely getting the last syllable right but it was close enough. He didn't seem to mind.

“Sissel,” Madanach returned. “Come on, your mother's clearly getting tired. Get dressed and meet me downstairs, and I'll take you both to the Blue Palace.”

“Blue Palace, Blue Palace! We're going to the Blue Palace!” Sissel cried, leaping off the bed and running to her bedroom to find her outdoor dress and her shoes. Lucia followed her a little more slowly before stopping in the door way to look at Madanach.

“Are Uncle Argis and Auntie Eola really your children?” she asked, sounding hopeful. Madanach looked a little surprised but nodded.

“Yes, they are. Is that good?” 

To his surprise, Lucia smiled broadly.

“Then you can't be a bad person, because they're my friends and they're nice.” Lucia still looked rather pink but carried on regardless. “Kayd from Bits and Pieces was telling me all sorts of terrible stories about you, that you kill people and use their body parts in dark magic, but I don't believe it. I think you're nice really, you just don't like people knowing.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. Your secret's safe with me.” With that, she ran off after Sissel, leaving Madanach rubbing his eyes and trying to work out what had just happened. 

“I think that means they like you,” Liriel smiled, snuggling up next to Madanach again.

“That Lucia is too smart for her own good,” Madanach said, but although his voice sounded disapproving, he was nodding as if he liked the idea. “She'll go far, I'm sure. I shall see you in a few hours?”

Liriel nodded, already dozing off as Madanach laughed, pulled the covers back over her and kissed her on the cheek. He paused, one hand resting on her back. 

“By the gods, I love you,” he murmured in her ear. “Don't you dare die on me, Liriel.”

Liriel didn't answer. She'd already fallen asleep again. Madanach stayed where he was a moment longer, forehead pressed against Liriel's face, listening to her breathe and silently thanking Sithis for not claiming her just yet. If the aborted Lost Valley rebellion had claimed Liriel's life... it didn't bear thinking about. And as for General bloody Rikke sending her here instead of back to him in Markarth... no, it was past time he claimed her officially. Definitely time to talk to Nepos when he got back to Markarth, get the girls' bedroom sorted out, get them all moved to Understone Keep and start organising a wedding. Once she was officially queen, absolutely no one would be sending an injured Dragonborn anywhere but back to her loving husband where she belonged. But first, time to put his own claim to the kingship beyond all doubt. He'd been so focused on the Nords and Empire, he'd not thought about his own people's loyalties – a mistake, he had to admit. Time to put it right. Eola had proved herself by putting down a rebellion, and his queen was already a living legend. Time for him to get out there and claim a legend for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brenyeen is Rhanic for princess. My gods, but the bastardized Welsh/Irish/Sindarin hybrid has now got the beginnings of its own grammar...
> 
> Sissel and Lucia persist in being cute, don't they? Madanach, you're a doomed man.
> 
> Next chapter is the last big plot arc of this story - Madanach wants to fulfil the Reach's greatest legacy but before that, he's got to marry off his son.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice fluffy chapter, leading in to the final plot arc. Yes folks, we are drawing to the end. I hope you've been enjoying the ride, I know I have. There's one short, vanilla sex scene in here but otherwise, nothing to squick anyone other than much cuteness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the aftermath of Lost Valley cleared up, the House of Madanach are winding down, relaxing and enjoying themselves, with a wedding on the horizon and a happy announcement to make. However, Madanach's not feeling entirely secure on his throne just yet, and decides it's time to fulfil one of the Reach's greatest legends...

A few hours later and Liriel was awake, feeling much more like herself, up and dressed in a simple blue dress, drinking some lavender tea while Jordis made stew. The whole kitchen smelt of venison and Liriel could hardly wait. Cicero was downstairs in the alchemy lab doing Aedra only knew what, but he wasn't making any noise nor was he bothering her so Liriel was inclined to let him get on with it. Every entrance to her house was being watched over by one of the ReachGuard, all on duty outside. It was a little odd but Liriel supposed she'd better get used to it. She was marrying their king after all, and Madanach was a great believer in keeping up appearances. Maybe the Forsworn court was less formal than most, but Madanach had rarely travelled anywhere without an entourage before he became king and he'd not eased up in that respect since. Liriel could only imagine what the gossip was in Solitude today – the Reach-King himself arriving in the city, descending on the Dragonborn's house, making himself at home there and then escorting her daughters around the city was going to make waves, no doubt about it. Still, no help for it. Word would have got out sooner or later. As long as no one assassinated Madanach, that was the main thing.

She could have sworn she heard something out there though. Raised voices, shouting... and explosions?

“I'm just stepping outside for some air,” she told Jordis.

“Is that wise?” Jordis asked, alarmed. “In your condition?”

Probably not, but someone had been slinging Destruction magic about out there, she was sure of it, and she had a horrible feeling it had been Madanach. 

“I'm feeling a lot better today,” said Liriel firmly. “I'll be fine. You stay here, guard the house. I'll take Cicero.”

Jordis had no objections to that – while Cicero had been perfectly lovely to her housecarl, Jordis still found him a bit creepy. Liriel couldn't rightly blame her for that. Heading downstairs, she paused only to stop Cicero from destroying her entire alchemy store and hauled him out.

“Where are we going, Listener?” Cicero asked, curious.

“Out,” Liriel answered, opening the door to an overcast day but not one where it was actually raining. “Someone is using magic out there and I think it is your blood-brother.”

Cicero cackled and scampered ahead, dagger at the ready. Liriel followed, casting mage armour just in case, and noticing the ReachGuard on the door fall silently into step behind her as she left. Up by the main door of the house, the other ReachGuard on duty did likewise. Clearly they knew who they were guarding. Liriel wasn't at all sure how she felt about this, but she wasn't quite at full strength yet and two fearsome warriors of the Reach at her back was not to be turned down.

Up near Solitude bridge, she could see bodies, a crowd gathered, guards trying to herd people away, Sissel and Lucia dancing around and cheering, an awful lot of ReachGuard standing around and exactly how many people had Madanach brought with him??

Madanach himself was in the middle of it all, ignoring the Solitude guards in favour of arguing with someone. A shorter, blonde, female someone in scaled armour and a Forsworn headdress.

Cicero promptly shrieked in delight and bounded over, pouncing on Eola and clinging on to her, exclaiming how pleased he was to see her, he'd not expected her to come in person.

“She wasn't supposed to!” Madanach snapped, still glaring at his daughter. “Eola, what are you actually doing here? You're meant to be helping Nepos look after the Reach!”

“Well, good thing for you I turned up when I did, isn't it?” Eola said firmly, indicating the bodies on the floor with the hand that wasn't cuddling Cicero, one of them crumbling into ash. A vampire and two thralls from the look of it, attacking Solitude in broad daylight. Fortunately, there weren't any other bodies around, not that Liriel could see anyway. 

“Eola, I had Borkul and two of my better soldiers, I assure you we had the situation under contr- WHAT IN THE NAME OF SITHIS ARE YOU DOING HERE??? I LEFT YOU IN CHARGE!”

Nepos had emerged at Eola's side, smiling calmly as if absolutely nothing was amiss.

“Oh, the Reach will be fine for a week or so,” Nepos assured Madanach, who looked about ready to implode. “Don't worry, Captain Soneen can keep Markarth ticking over and everyone else will just have to wait.”

Madanach's eyes were boring into his steward and anyone else on the receiving end of that stare would have fled the scene screaming. Mercifully, Nepos was quite immune to Madanach's mood swings, forty years of dealing with him having inoculated him by this point. 

“Sir, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to-” one of the Solitude guards said hesitantly. Oh gods, this was all Liriel needed, the guards arresting her not-quite husband. Bad enough he'd been flinging Destruction spells around in front of the girls, although in fairness, if vampires had been attacking, he probably hadn't had a lot of choice in the matter. 

“What's going on?” Liriel asked, and Madanach turned from berating Eola and Nepos to glaring at her.

“You should not be out of bed!” he snapped, striding over to her and taking her shoulders. “Look at you, you're pale and tired already and your house is only ten minutes away.”

“I'm not tired!” Liriel protested, although she could do with a sit-down now that he mentioned it... Madanach was tutting loudly, an arm around her waist, holding her up, and she took the opportunity to snuggle him. Fortunate in the event – the guards all knew her and relaxed noticeably on seeing the dangerous-looking Breton mage with all the Forsworn around him was actually with the local hero Thane Liriel.

“Excuse me, Thane, is he, er, with you?” the nearest Solitude guard asked. Liriel nodded, smiling hopefully at the guard. “And all these...?” He indicated the massed gathering of ReachGuard who were standing around, hands on weapons, and they weren't all Reachmen in Forsworn gear either, there were a few Nords around in light chain mail as well, along with all Madanach's blood-brothers and even young Muiri on Odvan's arm, with little Skuli holding her hand. Muiri noticed Liriel looking at the boy and smiled apologetically. 

“Oh, hello Liriel! I hope you don't mind, but Skuli kept visiting the Hag's Cure and he's really keen on alchemy and then Odvan started teaching him weapons skills and, er...”

“Muiri, have you adopted him?” Liriel sighed. Muiri was all of twenty years old and far too young to be caring for a ten year old, but all the same, someone needed to be looking after him and Liriel had to admit she had enough on her plate with the girls, never mind a third. Muiri nodded guiltily, and Skuli hugged her.

“Muiri's the best and Odvan's awesome,” Skuli said proudly, and Liriel felt her own fears abating. The boy was in good hands and she couldn't raise every orphan in Skyrim after all. “I mean, it's not the same as having Ma back, but Princess Eola declared it official and Mr. Nepos did all the forms and even let us have his house to live in and everything!”

“They might as well have it, I'm not using it,” Nepos shrugged. “The steward's room at the Keep is a lot more comfortable.”

“Enjoy it while you've got it,” Madanach growled. “One of these days, I might decide I want a steward who actually _does what he's told_. And you've still not told me why any of you are here.”

“We're here for the wedding!” Eola chimed in, cheerful as ever and looking surprisingly dignified for someone who still had a jester draped over her and nibbling her ear.

“Wedding?” Liriel asked, confused. She hoped to Mara that Madanach hadn't booked the Temple of Divines for a surprise wedding for them both, but fortunately he seemed as confused as she was.

“Wedding? What wedding?” Madanach snapped. Eola rolled her eyes and handed an ornate scroll over to him.

“Your son's wedding. You know, the one you arranged for him with the High Queen of Skyrim? Here's the invitation for you and Liriel and the little ones. It arrived just after you left for Solitude.”

Madanach unrolled it and sure enough, it was a formal invitation, decorated with a red and gold dragon along the bottom and a red and silver eagle at the top, and the wolf's head of Solitude in the corners, inviting Madanach ap Caradach, King of the Reach, Thane Liriel Dragonborn of Solitude and Sissel and Lucia ap Liriel to the wedding of High Queen Elisif of Skyrim and Argis ap Madanach, Prince of the Reach, to be held at the Temple of Divines in Solitude on...

“But that's next week!” Madanach cried. “What are they playing at, it wasn't meant to be for another three months! Dammit all, I was supposed to be sending them coin to help pay for it...”

“Taken care of,” said Nepos calmly. “I've already authorised payment in instalments over the next three months – I'm sure that won't be a problem for them.”

“Right, right, but what about gifts, I haven't got them anything!” Madanach ran his fingers through his hair, clearly most put out by all this. Eola bit her lip, clearly trying not to laugh. 

“Da, relax, we brought some pretty jewellery for Elisif and two bottles of the good jenever for Argis. It'll be fine. We also brought all Argis' things, and a wedding outfit for you. Stop worrying! We're organised!”

“I don't feel it,” Madanach growled. “What is he thinking – I haven't even seen him yet, we got sidetracked and ended up visiting the Bards' College, then we came out and heard fighting and those vampires were here...”

Liriel tightened her grip on Madanach, really not liking the idea of him going into battle without her, even though he was quite capable. She liked the idea of her daughters being in danger even less.

“Girls, where are you?” she cried. Sissel and Lucia broke off from where they were bragging to Kayd and Svari about how the Reach-King was going to be their new papa and he was the best and bravest warrior ever who could kill vampires and shoot lightning and fire from his hands and wasn't scared of _anything,_ and rejoined their mother.

“Mama, you're up!” Lucia cried, cuddling her. Liriel put the arm that wasn't clinging on to Madanach around her, while Sissel had snuggled up next to a surprised Madanach.

“I heard someone flinging fireballs around and came to investigate. Good thing I did, hmm? Are you two all right? You're not hurt or frightened?”

Emphatic shakes of the head from both girls.

“Oh no!” Sissel announced. “Well, a little bit at first, but then Mr. Borkul and the guards ran at the vampires and Madanach told us to stay back and out of the way and then he blasted the scary vampire with lightning, and it ran straight for him with a weird red spell aimed at him, but Madanach warded it off and then Mr. Borkul hit the vampire with an axe and it fell to its knees and then Auntie Eola ran round the corner and shot fireballs at it while all the ReachGuard with her went for the vampire's guards and then they all fell over and they didn't get up again after that.”

“I'm glad you weren't here, Mama,” said Lucia softly. “It was dangerous, you might have been hurt again or killed!”

“I should be saying that to you!” Liriel said faintly, tightening her grip on her daughter. But she was fine, they both were, and thank Mara they'd had Madanach with them and Eola had turned up when she did – the guards might have been able to deal with it, but not nearly as efficiently as magic-wielding, magic-resistant Reachfolk. 

“I think it's time we all got inside and left the people of Solitude to it,” said Madanach firmly, getting himself under control again and taking charge before anything else happened. “Nepos, I hope you had accommodation in mind for all this lot, the Dragon-Queen's house does not have room for you all.”

“Not to worry,” said Nepos calmly. “I've got it all under control. Elisif including a charming letter with all the invitations saying she could host us all at the Blue Palace, although I daresay you'll be staying at Liriel's house?”

“Of course, what is the point of marrying a Thane of Solitude if I can't make use of her very nice house while I'm in town?” Madanach growled. “Now if you'll excuse me, I am escorting said convalescing Thane back to said very nice house, along with these two, so if you can get everyone up to the palace and convey my regards to my son and tell him I'll be along to see him this evening, I'd be most grateful. Go on, off you all go – not you, Eola.”

Eola stopped, rolling her eyes and turning to her father. 

“What?” she sighed. “Don't tell me I'm in trouble still. Honestly, I turn up to see my big brother married off, save you in the process and just get abuse for my trouble?”

“No,” Madanach growled, letting Sissel go and holding out a hand to Eola. “You're getting a hug. Get over here, show some affection to your old da.”

Eola's eyes widened in surprise, before she broke out in a smile. 

“I missed you,” she told him, snuggling into him and kissing him on the cheek. 

“I was only gone a day,” Madanach said gruffly.

“I know,” said Eola softly. “But it was weird being in Markarth without you. I tried sitting in the throne, you know. Felt really strange.”

Madanach hugged her tighter, kissing her hair. “Want to know a little secret?” he murmured. “I can't get used to it either.”

Eola laughed and rested her head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed. Liriel stroked Eola's hair, smiling at her. It was good to see her again and not just because Cicero had been wistful and pining without her. It was like having the final piece of her family fall into place.

“Come on, all back to mine,” she said, eyes flicking to where Cicero had placed his dagger into Sissel's hand and was demonstrating several ways to stab someone. “Time we had a little mead and caught up.”

Everyone agreed with that. Leaving Solitude to its own devices, the little group made its way back to Proudspire Manor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Liriel felt rather pleased with the way this afternoon was going. She'd been swept off back to Proudspire Manor, settled at her dining room table, had food put in front of her and a glass of wine poured for her, while Eola and Cicero entertained her children with the story of how they'd triumphed over the Lost Valley Rebellion. Thankfully, when Eola got to the part where Cicero had crept in to Serpent's Bluff, killed their Matriarch and stolen her heartbox, and then Eola had torn the hearts apart in front the entire camp the next day and destroyed them, killing the Briar Heart warriors in the process, Eola did not tell them she'd torn the hearts apart with her own teeth and destroyed them by swallowing the pieces.

Cicero hadn't gone far from Eola's side, cooing and doting on her and sitting on her lap and cuddling her, squealing “you're real, you're real! Cicero didn't imagine you!”

“Of course I'm real, honey,” Eola purred, resting her head on his chest. “You're stuck with me.”

Cicero squealed and wriggled in her lap, cuddling her. Next to her, Liriel felt Madanach's hand squeeze hers. 

“All right, they are cute together,” he murmured in her ear. Liriel rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and basking in happiness. 

“Going to let them get married then?” she whispered. Madanach shook his head.

“Not yet,” Madanach muttered back. “Far too entertaining to let them believe themselves a pair of starcrossed lovers. Also I have to pay towards Argis' wedding, not to mention ours at some point. I'm not sure the Reach's economy can presently afford a lavish wedding for the heir of the throne on top of that just yet, especially when I know full well the groom has no money and will be paying for none of it.”

“I can help him out if you like?” Liriel whispered. “And I've got no objection to helping out with ours as well, you know that.”

Madanach glared at the mere suggestion. “Don't you even think about it. You're my queen, I'm marrying you, all you need to do is turn up and look beautiful. You're not paying for it. How am I supposed to spoil you, adore you and lavish affection on you if you insist on paying me for the privilege, hmm?”

He was nuzzling her neck, then kissed her on the cheek as he put an arm around her, and Liriel smiled happily, letting him embrace her. All right, this whole husband business was nice.

“Are you marrying Uncle Cicero, Auntie Eola?” That was Sissel, looking hopefully up at them. Cicero went pink and giggled nervously, while Eola just smiled.

“Perhaps. After we've got to know each other better. If Cicero's a good boy.” Cicero squeaked and snuggled up closer to Eola. 

“We're going to be living in Markarth again when Mama marries your papa,” said Lucia, still sounding a bit pensive about the fact. “Will you and Uncle Cicero be living there too?”

Eola hesitated, glancing at Liriel. They'd already decided in theory to turn Reachcliff Cave into a Sanctuary, but it was going to be some time before the place was properly liveable. And even when it was ready, it was likely Eola would still be spending a great deal of time in Markarth.

“Most likely, yes,” Eola replied, smiling. “I didn't see a lot of my da growing up, I want to make up for lost time.”

Lucia cheered on hearing that news, going to Eola for a cuddle. And so the day drew on, lunch was had, Eola and Cicero hauled the girls off for the aborted visit to Argis and Elisif, and Liriel retreated to bed for a lie-down, seeing Madanach also looked tired and given he'd likely been travelling until the early hours of the morning, a rest wouldn't do him any harm either. Not that he was going to admit he needed one any time soon, especially not during the day, but he was quite willing to keep Liriel company. Needless to say, he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Liriel watched him doze, smiling as she stroked his hair. So fierce, so unstoppable and yet like this, so vulnerable. She could watch him sleep all day. Hers. Her beloved Reach-King. Happy, at long last. Safe, free, protected, at long last. The Reach less corrupt and unjust, at long last. 

Liriel loved him dearly. Her children loved him dearly. All was going to be well. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Early evening, and Liriel and Madanach awoke in each other's arms. No words, just smiles and then kisses and then Liriel whispering “how long since we...?”

“Not since Windhelm,” Madanach murmured back, pain flickering briefly through his eyes as Kaie's memory passed through his mind. It was never far away, but whenever Liriel kissed him it seemed to lose its sting for a while. “Did you want to? Are you feeling strong enough?”

Liriel kissed him again, and when she finally let him go, she whispered in his ear “Please? Please just touch me?”

Madanach made no answer other than rolling her on to her back, unlacing her bodice and freeing her breasts, gently kissing them, trailing his lips to one nipple, planting kisses over her skin while his hand slid down her stomach, hitching her dress up and sliding into her smallclothes. Liriel closed her eyes, putting her arms around him and leaning back, sighing in delight as Madanach's fingers slid into her, first caressing her clit then sliding further back, entering her and exploring her. Liriel held on to Madanach, still feeling sleepy and guessing tonight was going to be fairly gentle. He'd left her breast, kissing his way down her stomach, then he paused, stroking the hair between her legs, and then Liriel was wide awake as he took her clitoris in his mouth.

“Oh! Oh you don't.... oh don't stop...” Liriel breathed, fingers in his hair as lips, tongue and fingers teased, licked, devoured, Madanach groaning in to her and not seeming to care about anything other than tasting her. Liriel lay back, helpless to do anything other than give in and let the pleasure take her. 

Afterwards he kissed her gently, cradling her in his arms and stroking her hair. Liriel had a vague feeling they should be doing more or perhaps she should do something for him, but she was tired now, so tired. 

“How was that?” she heard him murmur. 

“Nice,” she whispered. “Really nice. Do you need me to...?”

He shook his head, kissing her again. “No, it's fine. I just wanted to have you in my arms again. Have I told you you're beautiful lately?”

Liriel shook her head. “I don't think so.” Madanach tutted, snuggling closer.

“How remiss of me. Liriel, Davrha-Brenhina, love of my life, you grow more beautiful with each passing day, and a day without you in it leaves my life that much the poorer for it. How's that?”

“You old romantic,” Liriel whispered, tears in her eyes as she held him. He cuddled her back, smiling although he looked a little embarrassed.

“I try,” was all he said. They stayed that way, warm, content, happy, until Liriel was feeling a little more alert.

“It's getting dark out there,” she whispered. “Did you want to go and see Argis tonight still?”

“Of course, I've been in this city nearly a day and not laid eyes on my son. He'll think I've forgotten about him. What about you, do you feel up to it?”

Liriel nodded. She wasn't entirely certain but she also didn't want to sit around here all evening either. It'd be nice to see Argis again. So she got up, got dressed and prepared to follow Madanach out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The skies had cleared, the aurora was blazing and the stars were shining down on them. Liriel, changed into one of the nicer dresses she owned, took Madanach's arm, staring up at the sky in delight. He gave the sky the odd glance, but mostly he was just watching Liriel, pleased to finally have no emergencies demanding his attention, no crises or grand political plans afoot. Just Liriel on his arm, beautiful as always, and his children waiting inside. 

Falk Firebeard was still around, going over a few papers as he sat in Elisif's empty throne room. He glanced up, eyes cold as his gaze fell on Madanach, but brightening up as he saw Liriel.

“Thane Liriel, good to see you up and about at last. I'd heard you were gravely ill.”

“I was, but I got better.” Liriel stepped forward and embraced Falk in the traditional Nord bear hug, before letting him go and beckoning Madanach forward. “Falk, this is Madanach. Argis' father and my husband-to-be.”

Falk's eyes took Madanach in, radiating disapproval. “So I gathered. Your daughters were talking about him non-stop while they were here. Welcome to Solitude, sir. Your son is in the queen's bedchamber, along with your daughter and her...” Falk didn't seem quite able to find words to describe Cicero, although to be fair, most people had that problem. Liriel thanked him and led Madanach away. To her surprise, he was actually smirking.

“He hates me,” Madanach purred. “He's heard all the stories, and he loathes and despises me.”

“I'm sure he...” Liriel sighed and gave in. “All right, he probably does. Does it bother you?”

Madanach actually laughed. “Bother me? Are you joking? Means I'm doing it right. Honestly, all the sirs and milords I've been getting from the Nords lately, it was unsettling. Thank Sithis one of them still hates me. I was worried I was losing my touch.”

Liriel could only roll her eyes. You could take Madanach out of a Forsworn camp, bathe him, brush his hair out, dress him in fine clothes and a Jarl's circlet, but underneath it all, he was still the old savage he'd always been. On the other hand, at least it kept things interesting. 

“Da!” Eola sprang off Elisif's bed, skipping over and giving first her father then Liriel a cuddle, and Cicero had sat up, kneeling at the end of the bed with a big grin on his face. 

“LISTE- LIRIEL!” he cooed, holding out his arms to her, and Liriel went to cuddle him too. Then it was Madanach's turn.

“DEAREST SWEETEST BLOOD-BROTHER!” Madanach's good mood evaporated as he realised he wasn't getting out of this one. Cicero's eyes were fixed on him, the grin was unmoving, and his arms were held out expectantly to Madanach. 

“One hug,” Madanach warned him. “Lasting no longer than five seconds. Hands restricted to my upper back or I frost cloak you. Absolutely no kissing.”

Cicero giggled but did as asked, cooing over Madanach before Eola grabbed his arm and hauled him off her father and back into her own arms, cuddling him at the foot of Elisif's bed.

Said Elisif was reclining on her own pillow, looking happy and positively radiant, and Argis was alongside her, out of his armour for once and looking very relaxed in an outfit not dissimilar to his father's. He'd got up and gone to greet Madanach, both men embracing for far longer than the five seconds Madanach had limited Cicero to.

“You're looking well,” Madanach said gruffly, finally letting his son go. “Look at you, you're looking like a Nord Jarl now.”

“Yeah,” said Argis, not meeting his father's eyes. “Sorry, it's just these clothes...”

“Don't be,” said Madanach softly, hands resting on his son's shoulders. “I knew this would happen. It's why I chose you for this. You're going to be so much happier among your own people.”

“The Reachfolk are my people,” Argis replied firmly. Madanach just smiled sadly. 

“So we are.” He saw Elisif approach, smiling nervously, and turned to her, holding out his arms to her.

“Elisif, my daughter-to-be, it's a pleasure to see you again.”

“Madanach,” Elisif laughed, kissing him on the cheek and also exceeding the five second limit, much to Cicero's whispered displeasure. “It's good to see you. General Rikke was telling me you'd managed to sort the Reach out?”

“Liriel and my daughter between them dealt with it, yes,” Madanach told her, smiling as he let her go. “No need to worry, my kingdom's safe and you still get to marry my boy here.”

“I'm relieved to hear it,” Elisif said, blushing, and Liriel wondered if she'd told Eola the real reason for the early wedding yet. Madanach clearly had no idea. “Liriel, thank you, thank you so much, I knew you'd be able to help.” Elisif turned to her, hugging her in a way Liriel was more accustomed to from her daughters than from the High Queen of Skyrim.

“It's all right,” Liriel told her, ruffling Elisif's hair. “Thank you for telling me, it could have turned really nasty. As it is, we managed to nip it in the bud. We weren't able to stop them attacking a settlement in the Reach though.”

“I heard,” Elisif said sympathetically, letting her go. “I got to meet poor little Skuli. That poor boy! He must be so brave, and I made sure to tell him that. At least he's got some adoptive parents now. He was getting on with your two quite well! I think your little Lucia likes him.”

“He's not good enough for her,” said Madanach without missing a beat, summoning two chairs from the far side of the room and taking a seat in one of them. As there wasn't an awful lot of room on the bed with Argis, Elisif, Cicero and Eola all lounging on it, Liriel took the seat next to Madanach.

“They're nine and ten, a wedding's hardly imminent,” Liriel told him, rolling her eyes.

“Exactly, boy hasn't even got a job,” Madanach growled. “Lucia can do better than an alchemist's son.”

“Oh gods,” Argis and Eola sighed in unison, both shaking their heads in identical expressions of exasperation. 

“Thank the gods he was in prison and missed out on our misspent youths, hey sis?” Argis sighed, pouring himself another glass of mead and handing an ale bottle over to Eola, who uncorked it and drank straight from the bottle.

“Those poor girls,” Eola agreed. “They're going to be thirty before they get their initiations.”

“Oh that is all right, Cicero shall teach them how to sneak, they shall be creeping out to see boys or girls behind the King's back well before then,” Cicero purred, heedless of the icy glares he was getting from both Madanach and Liriel by this point.

“Talking of imminent weddings,” Madanach said, scowling. “I was given to understand yours was months away. Why the hurry, mabion? I hope you realise the inconvenience this has put us all to.” 

Argis and Elisif both hesitated, a blush staining Elisif's cheeks as Argis was very definitely not meeting his father's eyes. Liriel wasn't sure what to say either, but fortunately Cicero had no such inhibitions.

“Oh Reach-King, why do a young couple usually have to get married in a hurry?” he sniggered. Eola's eyes widened as the septim dropped for her, and the guilty looks on both Argis and Elisif's faces confirmed it.

“No!” she gasped, delighted. “Seriously?? When did that happen? And I've been here all afternoon and neither of you said?”

“Wanted to wait until we were all here,” said Argis gruffly, an arm around Elisif as she cuddled up to him, looking very uncertain. “Da, I – I'm sorry...”

“Madanach?” Liriel asked, taking his hand. He'd not said a word, in fact he was staring into space as if he'd been slapped. “Are you all right?”

“Elisif's pregnant,” he said faintly. Elisif nodded, smiling a little.

“Nearly two months along, we think. That's why we had to have the wedding now, I wanted to still fit in the dress, plus people would talk. I mean, they're going to talk anyway, but I don't care, I'll have a husband I love very much, and a baby, Kyne I wanted a baby so much...!”

“I'm going to be a grandfather,” Madanach whispered, and there were actually tears in his eyes. Argis finally looked up.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Um. That's – that's all right, isn't it?” 

Madanach blinked and finally looked at his son, dazed but happy smile on his face. 

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes of course, gods of course, why wouldn't it be? Come here, boy.” He got up and reached out to Argis, who got up himself and hugged his father, both men too choked up to speak. 

“I'm so proud of you,” Madanach finally whispered. “Don't ever think I'm not.”

Argis nodded tearfully, saying nothing, just holding his father, and Liriel could feel her own eyes misting up. Right up until Eola rather ruined the mood anyway.

“My brother got the High Queen of Skyrim pregnant out of wedlock!” Eola cackled, leaning against Cicero who was likewise giggling. “Way to go, Argis. You're an ap Madanach all right.”

“Eola!” Liriel scolded her. “Behave, for once.” Eola grinned but did subside, and Cicero knew better than to make a point of it after the Listener's displeasure had been made clear.

Madanach had let Argis go at this point and was now embracing Elisif, who looked a little shaken by the experience but not actually displeased.

“Welcome to my family, cariad,” he was saying. “I'm so happy for you, I really am. If there's anything you need, anything I can do...”

“I'll let you know,” Elisif gasped breathlessly as he let her go, sitting back on the bed and looking quite flushed. Then Eola was there, hugging her and telling her the Nord form of Eola was Aela, and if Elisif wanted to call a child of hers that, Eola wouldn't mind at all. 

“I need to get married first,” Elisif laughed, settling herself back in Argis' arms as he rejoined her. “And you can't tell anyone else, any of you! Not until the official announcement, which won't be until after the wedding.”

Promises to this effect were made, with Eola and Liriel both staring Cicero down until he promised not to say a word on pain of, well, pain. That done, drinks were poured for all present and toasts were drunk to the future High King or Queen of Skyrim. Liriel squeezed Madanach's hand and leaned her head on his shoulder. Step-grandchildren, and one of those within the year. Not something she'd ever have seen happening a year ago. She wasn't even sure she was the same person as a year ago. But she was happy and in love and she was looking forward to every second. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The impromptu little party went on for two more hours, at least until Elisif started to yawn, at which point Argis tucked her up in bed and started commenting about how perhaps this could all move to Eola's room in the guest suite. Liriel took the hint and started shepherding everyone else towards the door, Eola and Cicero clinging on to each other and giggling like a pair of children, Madanach on her arm, still dazed over the whole going-to-be-a-grandfather thing, and Argis at her back, holding the door for her. 

“Glad you're feeling better, Liriel,” Elisif called sleepily from the bed. “Thank you for coming!”

“You're welcome,” Liriel called back from the door. “I'll see you soon, my Jarl.”

Elisif smiled and burrowed under the sheets. “You can just call me Elisif,” she said, smiling. “I think you're allowed to now.”

“Elisif,” Liriel said, feeling rather pleased at the implied intimacy. “You take care now.”

Madanach meanwhile was talking to Argis. “You should come with us. Just for a bit. Got something I need to talk to you about. I don't think your lady wife will want to know. It's... a Reachman thing.”

Heavy sigh from Argis. “It's not a contract, is it? You know, you don't need me along for that, you and Liriel and Eola and Cicero can take care of those all on your own.”

“Not a contract, no, it's... look, you said the Reachfolk are your people, right?” Madanach sighed. “So come and listen. I'd like you along, Argis, you're part of the family too, you know!”

“I know,” said Argis, wry smile in place. “Hang on. Elisif! Elisif, Da wants to talk to me about something. Is it all right if I disappear for a bit? I promise I'll be back soon.”

Elisif waved him off, blowing him a kiss before turning in. Argis smiled before closing the doors and following them out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“So what are you planning?” Argis asked, making himself comfortable in a nearby chair. They'd gathered in the guest room given to Eola – Madanach and Liriel were reclining on the pillows, Cicero and Eola had curled up at the end of the bed with Cicero cooing up at Eola while she stroked his hair, and while Argis was glad to see his sister happy, he did have to wonder about her taste in men. He had to wonder about her taste in a lot of things, particularly after hearing stories of Lost Valley and Serpent's Bluff from some of the visiting Forsworn. His old Nord friends from the former city guard, mostly now employed as miners or construction workers, had all told him not to worry about it, the whole heart eating thing was probably some sort of metaphor, but Argis was a bit too familiar with Forsworn culture to really believe that. By and large, the Forsworn managed to combine a deeply spiritual culture with a very pragmatic mindset, and they didn't really do metaphor. If they were calling his new sister Creenitha, that probably meant she really had performed the Hagraven rite of, well... He didn't like to think too long about it if he was honest. Just keep smiling and if Madanach didn't have a problem with it, it was none of his business. Just meant the woman had balls, that was all.

Madanach sat up, dazed grin of I'm-going-to-be-a-grandfather fading as the Reach-King took over.

“Simply put, Argis, after the recent debacle involving a settlement getting sacked, three Matriarchs and their Briar Hearts having to be put down, and a great deal of internal re-organisation, it's become manifestly clear I put too much emphasis on dealing with the Empire, and not enough on dealing with the Forsworn. I messed up and we all paid the price.” He squeezed Liriel's hand as he spoke, keenly aware he'd almost lost her.

“You weren't to know,” said Liriel softly. “They've followed you loyally for years, and the Empire, the Nords, they were your enemy.”

“Yeah, you invented the Forsworn!” Eola added. “What were we before you took over and united us all? A bunch of squabbling hill tribes, so Nepos tells me.”

“We're still a bunch of squabbling hill tribes,” said Madanach wearily. “Good gods, Eola, you helped Liriel out with contracts against Matriarchs, you know the trouble I've had uniting this country. Read it in the Empire's guide to High Rock – it's the curse of the Bretons, we're disunited, everyone wanting to be king or queen of their own little patch of land. I keep looking at the maps, at the political boundaries and I can't deny it, the Reach is the single largest Breton state out there, both in land and people. If we joined up with High Rock, we'd dominate the politics there, warp it out of all recognition. That's probably why they're not beating down our door asking us to join officially, although I've had numerous High Rock potentates trying to seek me out unofficially. I just tell them to perform the Sacrament like everyone else.”

“And so you should,” Liriel purred, nestling against his shoulder, making a mental note to go over these offers with him later, High Rock politics looked set to be a fine source of income for the Brotherhood. Madanach grinned and put an arm around her.

“Indeed, but all this wealth, all this influence, it counts for nothing if I can't hold the country together. If the House of Madanach fails, if we all dissolve into factions and infighting again, if the Reach separates into the ten tribes again, we lose it all and the Nords will take over again. I'm not having that. I've got to prove to them I'm their rightful king, not just some smelter worker's son who murdered his way to the top.”

“But you did, you did! Nepos told Cicero that dear Madanach didn't have any rival houses to deal with because he'd killed them all!” Cicero protested, looking rather disappointed at the idea of Madanach not being a hardened killer. “Is that not true? Did Madanach not in fact slaughter, maim, burn, freeze, shock and eviscerate all his rivals for the Mournful Throne?”

“Decapitated, strangled and poisoned a few too,” said Madanach, grinning nostalgically. “But that's not the point, Cicero. Point is, I need people to see me as a king, not some bandit warlord who managed to persuade the Empire to give him a crown. I need to prove I'm a worthy leader. I need the blessing of the greatest of us, someone all the Reach respects. Who here's read the Legend of Red Eagle?”

Nods from Eola and Argis – no one on a Forsworn camp could be unaware of it. Liriel recalled it too – she'd made a point of reading everything she could on the Forsworn. Only Cicero looked a bit confused.

“Cicero isn't sure... isn't he a king of the Forsworn?”

“The first,” said Madanach, nodding in confirmation. “When the First Empire conquered the Reach, he led the resistance. Drove them out, held the land for two years. Then they came back, and he died fighting them. He was the first Briar Heart too, made that pact with the Hags. When Nepos and I hatched our plans to re-unite the Reachfolk again, drive out the Nords once and for all, we used his legend to do it – subtly of course. We implied, we hinted, we spread rumours. That it was time again, time for the Reach to rise from its shackles. Then the Great War happened, the Empire was weak – and we saw our chance. Took Markarth, ruled the Reach for two years after driving Talos' Empire out... and then, just like in the legend, they came back. And like a coward, I ran, only to be hunted down five years later. Didn't even get executed, I just made some Daedra's pact with the Nords to save my own life. Some still haven't forgiven me for that. Some never will.”

Liriel had a feeling one of those people was Madanach himself, but she'd never say it out loud. She just held him closer.

“Well, I'm glad you didn't die,” she told him. “You did what you had to, and you won in the end. You're king now. The Reach is free. Isn't that the important thing?”

“Yeah, Da, you can go on about Red Eagle the legendary hero all you like but the fact remains, he lost,” said Eola with a shrug. “Guy took on a Legion by himself and got killed. You lived to fight again, you survived all these years, played the Silver-Bloods like a harp and then you got free, reunited the Forsworn, cut a deal with the Empire, took on the Stormcloaks and you won. Who needs a dead hero when you can have a living Reach-King?”

“Some would say surrendering is dishonourable,” said Argis quietly. Eola shrugged again, not seeming to care.

“Yeah, Nords perhaps. But we're not Nords! We're not going to Sovngarde if we throw our lives away doing something stupid, we're going back to the Void regardless of how we die. All that matters is we leave this world a better place than we found it, and you've done that, Da. Ask anyone in the Warrens who they'd rather have in charge. Even the Nord citizens admit you're not that bad.” The fact that the most prominent Nord citizens left in Markarth after the Silver-Bloods had been wiped out were the members of Eola's coven of Namira who had all been very sweetly told that they were going to be ardent supporters of their leader's dear father if they didn't want to be becoming one with Namira sooner than they might wish for hadn't hurt, of course.

Eola had a point, and Madanach couldn't deny it. But even the Reachfolk needed heroes and legends. 

“No one's going to write legends and stories about someone who's prime gift is the ability to run a city well,” Madanach sighed. “Look at Ulfric, couldn't run Windhelm to save his life and even the Nords who disagreed with him still think he's a hero. I need some of that, ideally without dying in some ridiculous fight I can't win.”

“So what's your plan?” Argis asked again. His father wouldn't have called them all in if he didn't have one, and sure enough, he was right.

“When Faolan the Red Eagle lay dying, he presented his sword to his people and he swore an oath,” Madanach said, recalling the words he'd memorised so long ago. “ _Fight on, and when at last the Reach is free, his blade should be returned, that he might rise and lead them again. Thus was given for his people: his life, his dream, his sword. But when every debt is repaid in blood, these he shall reclaim once more._ ”

“You're not serious,” Eola breathed. Argis had also sat up, frowning and Liriel tried to work out what he meant by this. Returning Red Eagle's sword to his tomb so that Red Eagle could return to rule the Reach... after fighting so hard for power, Madanach intended to give it away? It didn't make sense.

“I'm perfectly serious,” said Madanach, staring his daughter down. “The Lost Valley rebels thought we were weak, that we'd not really freed the Reach at all, just invited another set of overlords in. The fact that other than Hammerfell, every other nation around us is part of the Empire was apparently lost on them. All the same, if the Reach really is free, then we need to prove it. We need to take the sword back.”

“Wait, it actually exists?” Liriel gasped. “I thought... I thought it was just a legend...”

“So were dragons and Alduin, and they came back,” said Argis, grinning. “You thought Sovngarde was a story and yet you went there and back. Is it so hard to believe the Reachmen look after their ancient artefacts?”

“We've still got the sword,” Madanach laughed, patting Liriel on the back. “We know where the tomb is as well. We just need to gather our things, retrieve the sword, head out there and do the rite. That, dear Liriel, is where you come in.”

“Me?” Liriel whispered, nerves jangling. What on earth did she have to do with an ancient rite of the Reach? Mara help her, she hoped it wasn't something requiring sacred sex in front of everyone.

“Yes, you, my Listener,” Madanach purred. He reached into his pocket and produced a small book. “The rite requires a human sacrifice. Bathe the blade in human blood and present it with said sacrifice at the tomb. A life for a life, Liriel. To resurrect Red Eagle, we need to kill someone. That's why I need you. I can't just haul someone up there to sacrifice them. But someone who already has a contract out on them... that would do. Well, Liriel? Do you have anyone suitable, anyone who can disappear without anyone noticing? Who could be lured out to Rebel's Cairn? Doesn't have to be human exactly, I'm sure a mer or beastkin would do. As long as they're sentient.”

Liriel had to think about this one. She'd need to go back to Sanctuary, check in with the Night Mother, see if Nazir had anything on the books. And then she remembered an old contract Nazir had given her months ago, one she'd never got around to dealing with. Yes, yes he'd be perfect.

“Leave it to me,” Liriel promised. “I think I know just the man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Argis and Elisif get married, then Liriel has a contract and prophecy to fulfil.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madanach gets his son married off, but in the process gets not just Elisif as a daughter-in-law, but two more new children as Liriel's girls stake their claim. Then the holiday is over and it's time for everyone to get back to work... and Liriel's job can only end in blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nearing the end! After this, we have at most two chapters. *sadface* I'll really miss this lot. OTOH I still have their Cicero Dragonborn incarnations, so it's not the end of the world.
> 
> Another cute and fluffy chapter, although it gets darker towards the end. We have: Argis' wedding plus obligatory stag night (i.e. the pre-wedding party where the groom's friends give him a good send off and much drinking happens), drunk!Madanach, the kids being adorable and some vanilla sexings.

In the end, Argis and Elisif's wedding went without a hitch. True, there was the raucous stag night at the Winking Skeever which resulted in several of the groom's party being banned from the tavern for life, and Cicero almost being banned from the entire city were it not for Liriel smoothing the situation over with the guards and handing over a generous donation to the city's coffers. There was also the arrival of a mysterious Breton called Sam Guevenne who challenged Madanach to a drinking contest. Madanach took one look at the mead on offer, turned it down in disgust and produced a bottle of the good jenever instead. Three shots of that and the two men were getting along like a house on fire, right up until Sam offered to take Madanach off to this nice little place where wine flowed like water, which Madanach was going right along with until both men got up to leave and Sam promptly collapsed on the floor, flickering between looking like a man and looking like a Dremora.

 

“'S good stuff this,” Madanach drawled, pouring himself another shot. Not really meant to be drunk neat though. Certainly not knocked back in one, three of them in as many minutes, when you weren't used to it. “Sam? Sam? Get up, you're embarrassing me. They'll all think I did it...”

 

“Oh gods. Da, have you been giving outsiders the good jenever again?” Eola was standing there, relatively sober and staring him down, looking awfully like her mother.

 

“I'm not havin' a drinkin' contest with anythin' but the bestest,” Madanach slurred, trying to focus on his daughter. Possibly this had been a bad idea, but he couldn't for the life of him remember why.

 

“Namira's sake,” he could have sworn he heard her mutter, but he definitely was imagining that, his little princess would never worship the Daedra of Repulsiveness, he was quite sure of that.

 

“Oh hey, you're one of Nammi's,” Sam slurred from the floor. “You tell her hello from me. Gotta drop by an' see her some time, she makes the best fairy cakes. Made from real fairies.”

 

“Sounds delicious,” Eola purred, helping him up and towards the door. “Now go home, Sanguine, you're drunk.”

 

“What way's home?” Sam asked, bleary-eyed, more so than usual for him. Eola held the door open and gave him directions to the Thalmor Embassy, assuring him they were just waiting for someone like him to liven things up. Sam staggered out into the night, accepting a bottle of the good jenever as a little farewell gift. Eola breathed a sigh of relief. That was a potential disaster averted, and just in time for Liriel to get back from paying off the guards and making Cicero put his clothes back on.

 

“Sorted, thank goodness,” Liriel sighed. “Honestly, remind me never to let Cicero near strong drink again, I can do without his striptease rendition of Ragnar the Red.”

 

“At least he didn't stab anyone,” said Eola dryly, although she'd been cheering him on with the rest. “Hey, Liriel, I think you may need to call it a night. Someone is quite, quite drunk and has been giving outsiders the good jenever.”

 

“Oh gods,” was all Liriel could say, being all too familiar with the effects of the good jenever, having once picked a bottle up by accident having mistaken it for poison, used it on her arrows and not even realised until she got back to the Sanctuary and asked Babette to analyse it for her so she could brew some more and been told it seemed to largely be fermented juniper berries and a tincture of nightshade, with Babette all aglow with fascinated delight, saying she didn't even think the two reacted like that. At which point Liriel had had to go back to Madanach, show him the vial and ask what on earth the Forsworn did to the stuff, it had helped kill two trolls, five bandits and a dragon. He'd just laughed and told her it was a state secret, did she want a shot? No had been the short answer to that.

 

“Now jus' remember,” Madanach was slurring at the innkeeper, “keep the stuff cool, serve in thimble-sized glasses, or water it down with some sort of berry juice. Snowberrish'll do if you can't get juniper. An' whatever you do, don't never sherve it in metal tankards. Bad, bad idea.”

 

“I'll, er, keep it in mind,” Vinius replied nervously, shoving a pile of gold over the bar in return for a bottle of a clear liquid with only a slight hint of green and purple to it.

 

“Mara help me,” Liriel sighed. “All right, Madanach, that is it. We're leaving Argis to it and going home.”

 

“Liriel!” Madanach snapped, eyes trying to focus and not really succeeding. “Do you mind? I'm involved in highly important trade negoshiations! The entire economic future of the Reach ish at shtake here!”

 

“The Reach has the highest concentration of gold and silver mines in north Tamriel, nearly all of which you now own personally, the country's future does not rely on you selling strong and near-lethal liquor to unsuspecting Nords!” Liriel sighed.

 

“I know but it's fun!” Madanach smirked, grinning up at her with hazy eyes. This was a new experience for Liriel. She'd never really seen Madanach drunk before, he was normally the type to sip quietly at his drink in a corner and go to bed when he'd had enough. This was new. She just hoped he didn't try any magic in this state, Sithis only knew what might happen, particularly if he got his Illusion spells mixed up with his Destruction spells.

 

“Madanach. Cariad. Ahmul-se-Dovahkiin, love of my life,” said Liriel firmly. “We are going home. Now.”

 

Madanach glared at her, although this would have been more intimidating if his eyes weren't continually sliding in different directions.

 

“You can' tell me what to do, I'm king!” he growled. Oh good gods. Her mother had always warned her about the evils of drink and never to get involved with drunkards. Liriel was beginning to understand why.

 

“Hey, Da,” Eola interrupted, same smirk Liriel had seen so often on Madanach's face all over his daughter's. “If you go back to Liriel's house with her and don't keel over on the way or pass out, there is sex in it for you.”

 

“There will be no such-” Liriel started to say, outraged, but it had got Madanach's attention.

 

“Really?” he purred, looking Liriel over with interest. “Now that's worth leaving for. Eshpeshally with two of you, gods, Liriel, there's two of you, Dragon-Queens, I am all yours.”

 

Well, at least it had him pliable and amenable which was something. With her lover draping himself over her, Liriel said goodbye to Eola, made her promise to give Argis their best and keep an eye on Cicero, presently dancing on a table while several of Argis' Nord friends clapped and threw septims at him, and escorted the Reach-King home.

 

After all that, the wedding itself, held three days later because no Forsworn was ever so foolish as to hold a stag or hen night the night before the wedding, went rather smoothly. Everyone agreed the groom looked handsome, the bride looked beautiful, the ceremony was lovely and half the attendees were in tears, even the groom's father looking a bit misty-eyed although he denied he'd been remotely emotional at seeing his little boy all grown up and married.

 

Then all back to the Blue Palace for the private reception, the idea of a public and open-air one nixed on security grounds despite Liriel insisting there'd be no trouble from the Dark Brotherhood this time. There was music from both Nord bards and a Reach folk band called the Briar Hearted made up of ex-Forsworn. There was dancing, both sedate waltzes and traditional Reach ceilidh dancing. There was the traditional Nord passing of a horn of mead round the gathering for toasts to the happy couple and absent friends, the toast from Argis to his three dead sisters, his childhood friend, his comrade-in-arms in adulthood and the one he'd never got to know being particularly moving. And then Elisif sighed, shrugged her shoulders, raised a horn of mead and announced that seeing as she'd effectively moved Argis in with her weeks ago, there was no point in concealing it any longer – she was pregnant with the future High King or Queen of Skyrim and Argis the Bulwark ap Madanach, Rhan-Brenion of the Reach, was of course the father, which prompted stunned silence then shrieks of delight from the Reach contingent which prompted the Nords present to just shrug and start cheering as well, all of them well on the way to drunkenness by this point. There was the little incident involving Cicero and Eola sneaking off into the Pelagius Wing for some quiet time and emerging with what looked like Sheogorath's Wabbajack, and after Cicero turned Erikur into a chicken with it, Liriel confiscated it for the good of everyone. Fortunately he turned back a few minutes later, and everyone thought it was too funny to arrest anyone over it.

 

Liriel's two children had had a lovely time with flowers in their hair and pretty new dresses for the occasion, playing with Skuli and the children of Solitude, joining the dances or just playing hide and seek, and pestering Madanach for more magic tricks with his Illusion magic. To Liriel's surprise, he'd obliged, entertaining them all for half the afternoon and Liriel had felt a pang of heartbreak that he'd never be doing this for a child of their own, that he'd likely die before that child got to the stage Sissel and Lucia were at now. Then Sissel had concentrated very hard and managed to do a little Illusion magic of her own, just a dancing kaleidoscope of coloured lights, but she kept it going for nearly three whole minutes, and Liriel had never been so proud of her baby girl. She'd been sure to fuss over her, and then Sissel had looked up at Madanach hopefully. He'd smiled and told her she was a natural then hugged her and told her to keep at it, she could be a mighty wizard some day.

 

Sissel had squeezed him tight and whispered he was a much better papa than her real one had been, and Madanach hadn't known what to say to that other than to hug her back and laughingly tell her her real one must have been very bad at it. Sissel had gone very still then nodded.

 

“He used to tell me and Britte we were useless and good-for-nothing and throw things at us,” Sissel had said softly. “Then Britte used to blame me and beat me up when no one was looking.” She clung on to Madanach, face buried against his chest. “There was a nice man in Rorikstead, Jouane, he was a Breton too and he was teaching me magic in secret. It was the only nice thing to happen ever. But I couldn't tell anyone because no one would understand or approve. But now I've got Mama and I've got you and you both use magic and you've got books and you show me things and... and I want to live in Markarth with you and the Forsworn and learn lots of magic and be a powerful mage like Mama so I can go round helping children in trouble too!”

 

Madanach was stroking her hair, staring down at her, sadness mixed with pride, and anyone who knew he was the self-styled Scourge of the Nords and entirely deserving of that title given his past would have been shocked to see him being so affectionate to a Nord child.

 

“Cariad, I swear you can learn whatever you like,” Madanach murmured. “And absolutely no one's going to shout at you or throw things at you ever again, because they will have me to answer to.”

 

Sissel looked up at him then, eyes shining with happiness. “They always used to tell me in Rorikstead to be good, or else the Forsworn would kidnap me. I used to wish they would. I was going to run away and find a camp and ask them to keep me. But now I don't need to because you're right here.”

 

Liriel had felt tears in her eyes on hearing this – Sissel hadn't really liked talking about her life in Rorikstead, much preferring to concentrate on the present. Now here she was whispering her secrets to the Reach-King himself, and best of all, he was listening to her and taking her seriously and taking care of her, and that was genuine affection, not just affection for her sake either.

 

“I'll always be here for you, Sissel m'inyeen,” he'd told her gruffly. “I promise.”

 

Liriel had actually felt tears rolling down her cheeks at that point as Madanach had kissed Sissel's forehead and sent her off to play with the other children. Liriel had taken him in her arms and felt compelled to kiss him. He'd seemed surprised but kissed her back enthusiastically for a good few minutes before they finally broke off, smiling at each other.

 

“I take it you're not offended or unhappy about me calling Sissel daughter,” he said, actually looking faintly embarrassed. “I wasn't intending to, but she just seemed so grateful and pleased and it just sort of slipped out.”

 

“No,” Liriel whispered, holding him to her. “Never. I didn't think I'd meet anyone to marry for years, never thought I'd ever have a father for them. Then I met you, and they love you as much as I do. I'm... I'm just so happy.”

 

“Same here,” he murmured, nose to hers and stroking her cheek. “I didn't think I'd ever have anyone again, and to have it be someone like you... I don't know how it happened, but it did and I'll never not be grateful for you. The chance to raise children with you is just a nice bonus. They're lovely girls.”

 

Liriel couldn't disagree there. She couldn't turn down the offer of a second parent either. “I don't mind them calling you father,” she whispered. “If you and they are willing.”

 

“I think Sissel's already made her mind up on that score,” Madanach laughed. “But I don't mind. It's nice having children around the place. I missed so much of my own kids' childhoods. Getting a second chance is more than I'd hoped for.”

 

Liriel hugged him again, so pleased to have been lucky enough to find someone who liked her children. Fortunate in the event – Lucia was tugging at her sleeve.

 

“What is it, sweetie?” she asked, turning a little concerned on seeing Lucia looking a bit forlorn and unhappy. She was shooting nervous little glances at Madanach.

 

“Sissel – Sissel said...” Lucia drew closer to her mother, looking shyly at Madanach still and definitely upset about something.

 

“Sissel said what, darling?” Liriel asked, hoping she wasn't going to have to tell Sissel off for picking on her sister, not today of all days.

 

“She said... she said Madanach called her Sissel m'inyeen and asked Auntie Eola what it meant, and Auntie Eola said it meant daughter and that that meant Madanach was Sissel's papa now.” Lucia looked heartbroken and Liriel began to worry. Maybe things weren't looking so good after all.

 

“Is that a problem?” Liriel asked, stroking Lucia's hair. Lucia cuddled into her, looking very downcast.

 

“What about me?” she whispered. “Aren't I good enough?”

 

Liriel clutched Lucia to her, feeling at a bit of a loss. She turned pleading eyes on Madanach, whose gaze had softened on hearing all this, and he knelt beside Lucia, one hand resting on her back.

 

“Lucia cariad, of course you're good enough. Don't ever let anyone else tell you otherwise. I just... wasn't sure you'd want me as your father.”

 

Lucia looked up, peeping out at Madanach from her mother's arms. He gave her an encouraging little smile, not looking worried at all, and Liriel realised he must have done this sort of thing hundreds of times, coaxing and sweet-talking unhappy little girls into smiling again. It was something she envied and no mistake.

 

“I never had one before,” Lucia whispered. “It was just me and Mama – my first mama. She said I'd had one once but he died when I was too small to remember him. I used to wonder what he'd been like, if he'd have liked me. Mama used to tell me I looked a bit like him and that he'd loved me and thought I was beautiful. Then she died too and I didn't have anyone, not until Liriel found me and now she's my mama and I love her so much and she loves me but I don't... I don't know if I'd be any good at having a papa.”

 

“Lucia,” Madanach said quietly, gently pulling her nearer for a cuddle. “The whole point is that it's not something you have to be any good at. You just have one and he loves you and takes care of you. That's it.”

 

Lucia cuddled him back, still looking a bit hesitant. “Will you?” she whispered. “Take care of me?”

 

“Of course I will,” Madanach promised and Lucia hugged him tight, finally smiling.

 

“You're the best!” she gasped, kissing him on the cheek. “Thanks, papa – I mean, thanks Da! I promise I'll be the best daughter ever!” Without another word, she let go and raced off to find her sister, who'd been standing with Eola, looking a bit nervous until she saw Lucia come running over, all smiles again, and then she cuddled her sister before the pair of them started squealing to Eola about how she was their sister now, her da had just adopted them both. Eola seemed delighted about the fact and promptly led both girls off to tell Argis this. He was still sitting next to Elisif on the new throne she'd had made for him, but he broke off from staring at Elisif long enough to fuss over his two new stepsisters.

 

“Did I just acquire two new children?” Madanach asked, looking a little dazed. Liriel nodded, squeezing his hand.

 

“Afraid so. Is this a problem?” Liriel teased. “Come on, you knew they liked you.”

 

“I know, but...” He got up, squeezing Liriel's hand. “I didn't think they'd warm up to me quite that quickly.”

 

“They want a normal family like other children have,” said Liriel, putting her arms around his neck, nuzzling his cheek. “They want a stable home, and a mother and father who'll be there for them all the time and not keep leaving them with the housecarl. They've loved having me around these past few weeks, it was why I didn't come to Markarth sooner. They were so happy, I just didn't want to leave them. They were heartbroken when I had to leave last time. I'm just glad they've taken to you. It'll make such a difference having their father there to look after them, and not having to worry because they're safe and loved and I won't have to move house for their own safety. And... and if anything happens to me out there...” She stopped, not really wanting to think about that, and Madanach clearly didn't want to either because he'd placed a finger against her lips.

 

“Don't. Don't say it. You're going to live a long and happy life long after I'm gone. But should the gods prove me wrong, don't fear for your daughters. I will take care of them.”

 

Liriel kissed him again then, and the rest of the party seemed to fade away for them both. They spent the rest of the evening holding hands and gazing happily at each other, giving rise to much talk about the Dragonborn Thane and the Reach-King and quite possibly another marriage in the not too distant future, but happiest of all were two little girls who finally had parents at long last.

 

Finally bride and groom were seen off to their bedroom with many a cheer and ribald remark, and the party began to break up. Eola had gathered a small group of younger attendees and retreated to her bedroom with them all to carry on partying, loudly declaring her extravagant High Rock-style party dress to be too tight and the hair extensions too heavy, at which point Cicero offered to swap outfits. One change of clothes later, and a few volunteers needed to lace Cicero up, and Eola was reclining in a frock coat, loose cravat and breeches, while Cicero pirouetted in a pretty lace white dress with matching gloves, gasping and exclaiming how pretty he looked. There was much laughter and then the make-up got applied while various young Forsworn women tied ribbons in his hair and told him how cute he was, and soon Eola was lounging back on her bed, holding court with the newly-dubbed Princess Cicero curled up next to her, still blushing and cooing over his outfit, and had she but known it, establishing herself as queen in waiting as far as the younger Forsworn were concerned.

 

Liriel went back to Proudspire Manor with Madanach, Jordis having escorted the girls home hours before and put them to bed. They were fast asleep when the two of them arrived home, Liriel opening their bedroom door and watching them with Madanach at her back, arms wrapped round her as he planted gentle kisses on her shoulder.

 

“We're a family,” Liriel whispered. “You and me and the girls, and your two and Cicero and Elisif and the baby to come. All of us, together, a family. At last.”

 

“Yes,” Madanach breathed on to her skin. “Yes we are. You're finally going to be mine.”

 

Liriel closed her eyes, smiling as she felt strong arms around her, and while Madanach might be shorter than her, his body physically ageing faster than hers, he'd been first an apprentice smelter worker then a Forsworn warrior then a prisoner doing hard labour – exactly how much hard labour he'd done in Cidhna Mine had been debatable, but he'd always insisted that digging that escape tunnel had been hard work – all things that had kept him strong. He might not be built like his son but he had broad shoulders and muscles under that fancy outfit he had on. Still more than capable of sweeping her off her feet or pinning her to a wall and holding her up while he fucked her, or pinning her down in bed and doing likewise and by Sithis, this train of thought could only lead to one place.

 

“I was always yours, macreena,” she said softly. “Just took me a while to realise it. Madanach, can we... can we go to bed?”

 

“Yes. Gods, yes.” True to his word, he'd picked her up and carried her out to her own bedroom, laying her on the bed before stripping off first his clothes then hers and then they were kissing, holding on to each other as fingers and tongues explored the other, and if Madanach didn't have the muscle tone his son did and if the hairs on his chest were silver not blond and his skin had wrinkles and age spots that Liriel's didn't and wouldn't for centuries, Liriel barely noticed or cared. She was too busy basking in the magicka that was buzzing around her, feeling the touch of his skin on hers, feeling power to match her own, little lights and crackling sounds in the very air as magicka got out of control and starting causing illusions to form. All the while he was kissing her all over, almost devouring her, groaning hungrily as he dived between her legs and Liriel was lost, lost in ecstasy as this powerful battlemage sorcerer who'd fought his way to the top of the Forsworn and led them to victory in the end seemed to want nothing more than to adore and worship her. Hands clutching her bedcovers, she gasped his name as he brought her to climax. Then he was on her, cock sliding inside her as his mouth met hers, fucking her hard and fast, mouth never leaving her skin for long, tasting her, biting her, sucking on her neck and shoulders if he wasn't actually kissing her.

 

Liriel held onto him, crying out, tears on her cheeks as she realised she was his and always would be, that even after he died, she'd still be his. Maybe he'd reincarnate, maybe the whole idea was a delusion and Madanach would be gone for good one day. But she'd never forget him.

 

Finally he came too, gasping her name as he did, collapsing in her arms after. For a while, neither moved then came a breathless kiss, the usual post-coital clean-up then crawling into bed, Liriel exhausted and Madanach just holding her in his arms, eyes closed and happy.

 

“Love you,” Liriel whispered sleepily. And then because it appealed to her inner sense of mischief, she added “Father of my children.”

 

Madanach did pause from kissing her hair at that point.

 

“Oh gods, I suppose I am now, aren't I?” he sighed. Liriel smiled, patting his arm as she nestled closer.

 

“You knew some time ago I had children, and yet you insisted on staying,” she said. “I'm afraid you're stuck with them. I'm sure you'll do just fine. You've had enough of your own.”

 

“Yes, and three of them died because of who I was, the war I'd started,” Madanach said softly. “That I still have Argis and Eola left to me... nothing short of a miracle for either one. All the same, I'm grateful for a second chance. They're not Eithne or Amaleen, although Sissel does remind me of Eithne a bit. Got that same cheeky smile. But it's not the same, and they're definitely not Kaie, either of them.” He stopped, wiping at his cheek and Liriel snuggled in tighter. He still missed Kaie horribly, she knew. Eithne and Amaleen were old griefs he'd learned to live with. Kaie was still a wound barely healed.

 

“Kaie liked them, you know,” said Madanach, his voice quiet in the darkness. “She and Argis kept them entertained and happy all the way back to Markarth after we rescued them. Especially Lucia. She's the quiet type, easily hurt – Kaie's a little like that herself.”

 

He'd used the present tense and Liriel didn't correct him. She'd seen it a lot over the last few days, usually when he'd been thinking about something else and spoken without thinking or needed something doing and his first reaction had been to look for Kaie, his runner and right hand for years. Then he'd catch himself, stop, correct himself and laugh it off as an old man's failing memory, but Liriel knew that for all Madanach liked to refer to himself as a harmless old man, his mind was as sharp as it ever was – it was his heart that couldn't let Kaie go and didn't want to remember she was gone. As happy as he was to have Eola back, he couldn't forget her sister and no child could ever replace another.

 

“Lucia liked her too,” Liriel whispered. “Asked me about her when I got back from Windhelm. She was so disappointed when I told her she'd died. I think they'd made friends. You should talk to her about it some time.”

 

“Maybe I will,” Madanach murmured, looking thoughtful. Silence fell, and then Madanach turned the conversation to happier topics. “My son's finally married. Probably lying in bed with Elisif right now, holding her like this and feeling like the happiest man in the world.”

 

“He probably is,” Liriel said with a smile. “I'm glad you acknowledged him in the end. It meant the world to him, you know.”

 

“I know,” said Madanach quietly. “He seems so different these days. Happier. I could see it when I got to Solitude, you know. He's changed. Doesn't seem to need my approval so much. You saw it today too – he barely took his eyes off Elisif, all he cared about was her. He's not my little boy any more. My son's a man, Liriel, and he's going to be a father. My boy's going to be a father!”

 

That was better, the excitement was back. Madanach had barely been able to contain himself every time he thought of it. It was adorable to watch. Maybe he was still grieving Kaie but the prospect of a grandchild was helping a lot.

 

“Yes he is,” Liriel whispered. “And he's going to be a good one. Like you.”

 

“You flatter me,” Madanach laughed. “I think you have to be a good man for that, and we know I'm not.”

 

By any objective standards, no, and Liriel's allegiances probably ruled her out of the decent elven being category too, but it was more complicated than that. These things always were.

 

“Good men can screw up, or do the wrong thing for the right reasons. Evil men and women can have their moments of compassion, the unexpected act of mercy or kindness. In the end, there's not really any such thing as good or bad people,” said Liriel thoughtfully. “Just whatever you're doing right now.”

 

“Well, what I'm doing right now is kissing my Dragon-Queen goodnight then going to sleep,” Madanach said sleepily. “And in the morning I need to start making ready to head back to Markarth – don't think we'll be leaving right away but I'll need to start organising it all. What about you, are you coming?”

 

“Not yet,” said Liriel, bringing her mind back to her usual routine. With her injuries healed, it was really time to get back to work and her neglected Sanctuary. “I need to check in with Nazir at the Sanctuary, then I guess I need to find your sacrifice, don't I? When are we doing this rite anyway?”

 

“No rush, cariad,” Madanach chuckled. “I need to get back to Markarth, ensure nothing has come up in my absence, get settled in and then start preparing. It'll be a few weeks before I'm ready.”

 

“What do you think will happen?” Liriel whispered, her mind returning to the legend, the story that when the Reach was free and the sword returned, Red Eagle himself would rise to reclaim his land. “Red Eagle isn't really going to come back, is he? And what will you do if he does? Won't that put you out of a job? I mean, you can come back here and live with me, of course you can... but you love being Reach-King.”

 

“I do... but if Red Eagle really does rise from the dead and want the throne for himself, I will have no choice but to step down,” Madanach said, sounding all too calm about the prospect. “Very regrettable, I know. Not to worry, Liriel. I am sure a man from the First Era who was the warrior-chief of ancient Reach tribes will have no problem at all presiding over a multi-racial kingdom that's part of a peaceful Empire, and I'm very sure there wouldn't be a delegation of conspirators in Solitude within months if not weeks begging me to return and save them, and absolutely sure the Dark Brotherhood would not end up getting called in to arrange his death in an unfortunate accident, after which I would have to sweep in and clear up the mess. Of course.”

 

“Of course,” said Liriel, starting to grin. “And I'm sure you would simply have to leave Nepos in Markarth to ensure Red Eagle had valued help and assistance in running the country, wouldn't you?”

 

“Obviously, it'd be churlish not to,” Madanach smirked. Liriel laughed and kissed him again. Truly, she couldn't not have fallen in love with this man. Nestling on his shoulder, she drifted off to sleep, feeling happier than she'd ever been.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The next few days seemed to consist of packing, packing and more packing. It had started when the girls got wind of Madanach's plans to return to Markarth in the next three days, and then been told that Liriel was off to Dawnstar too.

 

“Don't go, don't go, I don't want you to go!” Sissel had wailed, clinging on to Liriel and sobbing her heart out. Liriel had tried to extricate herself from her daughter's grip, but Sissel had been determined. Madanach had watched in amusement, right up until Lucia had turned sad eyes on him and asked if he'd changed his mind already, was that why he was leaving them behind? Madanach could have sworn he saw Liriel looking just a little bit smugly at him then, but honestly his main concern was the unexpected guilt gnawing at him at the look on Lucia's face. Mainly because it wasn't far off how Eola had looked every time he'd left Karthspire, the same clinging and pleading and silent terror she'd never admit to – the unspoken message of _please don't leave me alone with Mama, please, I love you Daddy, don't go._ It had broken his heart every time, and he'd always promised her he'd come back as soon as he could. Then he'd got captured and never been able to keep it again, not until she'd finally walked back into his life two, three months ago now. Eola had thought he'd died, had rather believed that than that her beloved father had failed her. Heartbreaking enough to have one child going through that. He couldn't do it twice.

 

“No, of course I haven't,” Madanach sighed, going to her side and putting an arm round her. “Listen, if you want, you can come back to Markarth with me, Sissel too if she wants and your mother agrees. We were going to move you both there anyway, it might as well be now when we've got carts available with space for your things, and you when you get tired.”

 

Lucia's eyes had gone wide and she'd turned to her mother for confirmation, as had Sissel who'd dried her eyes and looked up hopefully.

 

“Can we, Mama? Please?” Sissel had whispered. “Can we go to Markarth with Papa, please?”

 

Liriel had looked at her children then back to Madanach, sighed and given in. “Yes, all right, go on then. But that means you need to be packed and ready to leave tomorrow, and you need to behave yourselves and do as you're told and not wander off, right?”

 

Both girls had hugged her and promised to be good and then Madanach had had the same treatment and then they'd both rushed outside to break the news to Kayd and Minette and Svari and say goodbye, and probably find Skuli and announce they'd be going back to the Reach with him in the morning.

 

Liriel watched them go, smiling but her eyes told a different story. Worrying enough that Madanach came and put his arms round her.

 

“You are all right with that, aren't you?” he asked, stroking her hair. “I didn't overstep the mark or anything, did I?”

 

Liriel shook her head, curling into him. “No,” she whispered. “It's not like we've not discussed it or anything, I just... it's really happening, isn't it? I'm really going to be living with and marrying you, aren't I?”

 

“Afraid so,” Madanach murmured. “Not changing your mind, I hope?” He kept his tone light, but there was a part of him that truly feared the answer might be yes, this child of Alinor could love a human but couldn't face marrying one.

 

“No,” Liriel whispered. “It's just... it's just a big step for me. Living in someone else's house. Having someone who isn't a housecarl sworn to serve me taking care of my children. I'm not used to it.”

 

Not used to giving up her independence. He knew it. It was all a much bigger step for her than for him. But possibly not quite as frightening as she feared.

 

“Liriel. I will guard them with my life. I'm not sworn to serve you, but when we're married, I'll be sworn to love you. It'll be all right. You'll be all right, and so will they. Besides, if I know you, you will spend the majority of your time travelling all round Skyrim, delving into dangerous ruins, doing favours for half the country, murdering the other half and leaving me alone in our bed, having nightmares about you dying horribly in some Draugr-infested tomb and never coming home.”

 

The woman had the temerity to actually giggle.

 

“I hope that's not going to be a problem,” she laughed. Madanach hugged her tight, knowing better than to try and trap a dragon.

 

“No, if I'm honest, I'm getting used to it. Just don't go alone, that's all I ask. Take someone with you so that when you die horribly doing some insane task, they can bring your mangled remains home for a proper funeral.”

 

Liriel kissed him and promised she would do just this. Madanach held her, kissing the top of her head and hoping none of what he'd said would come to pass. For if she was taking a risk giving up a measure of independence and sharing parenting duties, she wasn't the only one. Madanach hadn't let anyone who wasn't a child of his get this close in a very long time. If she died, she'd take part of him with her.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The rain poured down over Morthal, lightning splitting the sky and thunder almost like a dragon's roar drowned out the sound of Lurbuk's lute. The inn was empty apart from him and Jonna, even Benor not wanting to venture out in a storm like this. No one was likely to be in tonight.

 

No one... until the door opened and two figures came in, shaking water off their red and black clothes. Lurbuk recognised them – well, one of them anyway. Thane Liriel of Hjaalmarch, Slayer of Movarth and a great many other things if the stories were true. She had a man with her, a short man with red hair and a wide smile, who skipped after her with not a care in the world, taking a seat at one of the tables while Liriel paid for beds and dinner for them both. Probably they'd just sit and talk together, eat then turn in. That was what usually happened.

 

Not tonight. Tonight, Liriel finished talking to Jonna, turned, smiled and made her way over, two bottles of ale in hand.

 

“Hello there, Lurbuk,” she purred, holding a bottle out to him. “Fancy a drink? Barding's thirsty work, I know.”

 

“Haven't even started singing yet. But thank you.” He took the ale off her, something occurring to him. “Say, did you want a request? I've been learning Tale of the Tongues especially, and Talsgar the Wanderer was in here the other day singing this Rains of Lost Valley song someone wrote about the Reach-King.”

 

“No!” cried Liriel. “Er... no. Not tonight. I mean, I just got back from Solitude and Queen Elisif's wedding, I must have heard both songs non-stop the entire time I was there. No, I don't need a song tonight. But I do need a bard's help. How would you like to help write the history of the Reach?”

 

“What – really?” Lurbuk put his lute down, all ears. “You want me to write a song for King Madanach?”

 

Liriel nodded, eyes bright. “That's right! Have you read the Legend of Red Eagle? Now that the Reach is free again, Madanach wants to fulfil the prophecy. He wants to return Red Eagle's sword to his burial place. They kept the weapon safe all this time, you know, safe at Red Eagle's birthplace. Now they're taking it home to his tomb. Madanach wants the rite commemorated by a bard, and of course I immediately thought of you.”

 

Lurbuk couldn't believe his ears. All bards dreamed of getting the attention of a wealthy patron, of being asked to write a song for them, which if done well inevitably led to further requests and further patronage and eventually fame and fortune. And here was Liriel offering him that very thing.

 

“You want me to come to the Reach with you?” Lurbuk asked hopefully. Liriel nodded, still smiling.

 

“Yes! If it's not too much trouble? I'll cover all your expenses, obviously,” Liriel promised.

 

Too much trouble? As if. Lurbuk didn't have any family left to him, nothing keeping him here. He settled his bill with Jonna that night, and in the morning, left for the Reach with Liriel and her giggling little friend. Glory awaited.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glory, yes, but not for you, Lurbuk. Next chapter, Madanach performs Red Eagle's Rite, with consequences no one foresaw. In the aftermath, it's time for the Dragon-Queen to officially claim her title.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liriel brings her blood sacrifice to Rebel's Cairn, and it's time to perform Red Eagle's Rite - with unexpected results and an unexpected legacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly at the end, folks! These are the last two chapters and as they're largely done, they're going up together. This is the Red Eagle one, and I've taken a few liberties with it, mainly as the cultural hero of the Forsworn should not look just like a Nord Deathlord with a frickin' greatsword in his hands. So I have made Red Eagle look like an actual Reachman. I have him also speaking the Reach language although I translated it for you in the fic - what he's saying is what Madanach understands the dialogue to be, although Madanach's speech is the Rhanic he's actually speaking.
> 
> Notes on the Rhanic, because it's more amusing if you know what it means. As always, it is derived from Welsh, Sindarin and Irish.
> 
> Mor Gwador - Dark Brother. Plural is Mor Gwadorai. The Dark Brotherhood itself is the Mor Gwadoreen.
> 
> Ant-y-agar - Gift of Blood, a blood sacrifice
> 
> Ant-Faolanaic - Red Eagle's gift
> 
> Macariad - my love
> 
> Ar aglar y Rhan - for the glory of the Reach
> 
> Ia-Mor - the Void
> 
> Rhaid me te anfon an-Ia-Mor - I will send you to the Void

The sun was setting behind the Druadachs as Lurbuk followed Liriel up the hill. She'd taken him to Rorikstead, settled him in the Frostfruit Inn and paid the innkeeper enough money to cover bed and board for a month and then left, saying she had urgent business in the Reach but would be back when all was ready. That had been three weeks ago until she'd waltzed in alone that afternoon, telling Lurbuk to pack his things and settling up with Mralki the innkeeper, before leading him off to the tomb of Red Eagle itself. For an allegedly lost location, it wasn't hard to find. The large Forsworn camp that had established itself around the ancient barrow known as Rebel's Cairn rather gave it away.

“This is the place,” Liriel said quietly. “Now make sure you're properly respectful to the Reach-King, won't you Lurbuk? He's not a patient man.”

Lurbuk agreed. Of course he'd be respectful. He wasn't going to risk offending his big chance at fame and fortune. Liriel smiled nervously and led him onwards. The guards saluted and waved her through, and Forsworn warriors of both sexes, including a few men with gaping chest cavities and something sewn into them, gaped at Liriel in awe.

“That's her! That's the Dragon-Queen!”

“Liriel Davrha-Brenhina!”

“She's so pretty...”

“Who's that with her? Is he a, you know, _mor gwador?_ ”

“Don't be silly, he's carrying a _lute_.”

“Mor Gwadorai like music too? Or maybe it's a special lute with secret knives or strings that cut flesh?”

Lurbuk didn't know what the Mor Gwadorai were, but he made a mental note to find out later. Could be important. Maybe they were a secret elite sect of Forsworn warriors or something, although maybe not if someone thought an Orc might be one.

“Ah, he's not a Mor Gwador, look at him,” someone else laughed. “Bet you he's the ant-y-agar.”

Now that got a few knowing looks and giggles, and the warriors all returned to sharpening weapons and sparring with each other. Lurbuk had no idea what ant-y-agar meant either, but he was very much looking forward to finding out.

Up ahead, waiting by the cairn entrance, stood a small knot of people, including a Nord man in ebony armour, Cicero the giggling red-haired man who had accompanied Liriel before, now dressed in Forsworn gear, a blonde-haired woman in scaled armour and a Forsworn head-dress who was laughing at something Cicero had said, a huge Orc in traditional Orcish armour who was smirking at the blonde and her friend, and in the middle of them all, two figures who were clearly the ones in charge. One was a silver-haired man dressed in Forsworn gear albeit with a rather nice war axe and a rather worn Forsworn sword on his waist and the other...

“By the Eight, is that a Hagraven?” Lurbuk breathed. The figure standing next to the silver-haired man was nearly as tall as him but hunched, a crone of a woman with claws on her fingers, sharp teeth, hooked nose, striking blue eyes like his and feathers sprouting from her skin.

“Matriarch,” Liriel confirmed. “She's a Matriarch. You be sure and call her that and nothing else, the Forsworn do not like outsiders mistreating their Matriarchs. Especially that one, she's Madanach's sister.”

Sister?? The King in Rags had a sister who was one of those things? Lurbuk began to feel a little nervous. The Forsworn really did revere Hagravens, it seemed. He just hoped the other stories he'd heard, of necromancy and cannibalism, weren't also true. Then the Hagraven turned round, some sense telling her they were approaching, and the man beside her looked up, shadowed blue eyes staring right into Lurbuk's as if he could see into his very soul. Madanach the Reach-King, no doubt.

“Brother,” the Hag purred. “Your Brenhina comes, and she brings your ant-Faolanaic.”

Lurbuk did recognise that word, sort of. Faolan was Red Eagle's name in the Reach Tongue. One to write of Red Eagle, was that it?

“Keirine!” Liriel gasped, stepping forward and actually embracing the Hag. “I didn't think you'd be here.”

“Where else would I be?” Keirine laughed. “My brother has a plan to fulfil an ancient prophecy and bring our country's founder back from the dead. Of course I have to come. Someone needs to be there to say 'I told you so' when it all goes to the Void, don't they?”

“It is not going to go to the Void,” said Madanach through gritted teeth. “I told you, I have a plan for this.”

Keirine just smirked at her brother, eyebrow raised, and there was a very similar expression on the face of the young woman on Madanach's other side. Reach-Princess Eola perhaps? Had to be really, Lurbuk didn't think there were any other young women close to the King. Other than Liriel, of course, who'd just gone up to the man and taken his hands in hers.

“Madanach, I – I found your ant-y-agar,” she said. That phrase again. He'd definitely have to ask about it later, it seemed important, although it could just be the Reach word for a bard.

“Cariad,” Madanach murmured, actually smiling as he held out his arms and drew her into them, lips meeting in a kiss that, while gentle, promised a deeper passion lurking just below the surface. Finally, he let her go, tracing a finger across her lips. 

“You're back,” he said softly, smiling at her. Liriel blushed a little, smiling as she dropped her gaze.

“I was only gone a few hours,” she said. Madanach just shrugged.

“It was long enough. So, my Dragon-Queen, what have you brought for me? Someone suitable?” He turned his attention to Lurbuk, looking him up and down curiously.

“This is Lurbuk, Madanach,” said Liriel, sounding rather demure. Well, he was a very important man even if he was her lover, Lurbuk supposed. “He's the bard. No one like him in all Skyrim.”

“A bard?” Madanach asked, surprised. He turned to his Orc guard, frowning. “Borkul, I didn't know your people had a bardic tradition.”

“We don't,” Borkul laughed. “It's enough we killed an enemy, we don't need to compose twenty-verse sagas to commemorate it. Just slice his head open and drink wine from his skull like we've done for centuries.”

Madanach did seem to find that amusing, a definite note of nostalgia in his eyes, although his Hag sister Keirine was tearing her hair out and hissing something about it being a waste of a good head.

Madanach turned his attention back to Lurbuk. “An Orc bard, eh? Well that's not something I'd have expected. Still, I'm sure Liriel chose you for a reason. She's got good taste.”

“I do my best, sir,” said Lurbuk, hoping he sounded polite enough. “Would you like a demonstration?”

Silence and a definite tension on Liriel's part. “I don't think that's necessary-” she began, but Madanach cut her off, actually sounding curious.

“You know, I never heard an Orc sing before. All right then, sing me a song of victory against all the odds.”

“Oh no,” Lurbuk heard Liriel whisper, and Cicero was tugging at Madanach's arm and whispering “But Reach-King, that's not why-” and Borkul shaking his head in dismay and saying “Boss, what are you doing, Orcs can't sing!”

“So they say, which means when one does manage to qualify as a bard, I want to hear it,” said Madanach, amused. “Go on then, Lurbuk was it? Sing for me.”

A song of victory against the odds then. Appropriate for a new country that had been fighting for years and only just won its freedom. Lurbuk opened his mouth and improvised.

“We fought hard... and we fought long... and we had enemies... lots of enemies... lots and lots of enemies... who killed lots of us... and then we killed them back... and then we won... We won and we took our kingdom... and now we're gonna party... because we won!”

He stopped, looking hopefully around at the stunned faces around him. Princess Eola with her mouth open and a smile flickering at the corners, Cicero going red in the face, biting his lip as if desperate to react but holding it in, Borkul shaking his head as if in despair and looking away, Keirine the Hag just raising an eyebrow, Liriel with hands over her face, eyes just visible and looking almost frightened of something and the blonde man who hadn't spoken just staring at him. As for Madanach himself, his face was blank, eyes staring straight into Lurbuk's.

“That was... indescribable,” Madanach finally said when he'd recollected himself. “I'm... overwhelmed. Yes, I can quite see why Liriel chose you for this. All right, I don't know exactly what she told you, but I imagine she told you there was a certain rite we were here to perform in homage to Red Eagle, first King of the Reach, correct?”

“That's right, sir,” Lurbuk said, barely able to contain himself. They'd liked it! They were going to take him on as official bardic chronicler for the Reach-King! “She said you wanted someone to witness and commemorate the rite.”

“In a matter of speaking, yes,” said Madanach, beckoning him forward. “All right, everyone with me. Let's go commune with Red Eagle.”

Without another word, he turned and strode into the tomb. As the rest of the Reach royal family followed, that strange little man Cicero giggling to the Reach-Princess about something and being soundly hushed, Lurbuk trotted in after them. This couldn't be going any better.

~~~~~~~~~ 

Inside the cairn, at the end of a short corridor, was a rough hewn cave much like any other, cairns of stones spattered with ancient blood positioned at intervals and the bones of what Lurbuk hoped were animals. Torches had been lit and in the centre was an ancient altar on a plinth, consisting of a rock with a slit in the top. It didn't look like much to Lurbuk's eyes.

“Is this it?” he asked. Madanach nodded, standing aside and motioning for Lurbuk to go first and a more astute and aware individual might have been a little concerned at a notorious warlord like Madanach apparently deferring to him. However, had Lurbuk possessed either of those qualities, he'd never have taken up barding in the first place.

“Yes, for now,” Madanach said in that rasping voice of his. “Right here, before this altar... now face that wall over there and don't move. Very important you don't move. Right, now Liriel _macariad,_ if you could possibly lend me that knife – thank you. Now everyone else, spread out around the walls and don't make a sound. Keirine, have you got the ritual notes there?”

“Of course, brother, you don't think I would neglect to bring them, do you? Gods forbid you actually memorise the incantation.”

Madanach tsked at his sister, one of the few who dared show anything less than unswerving respect to Hag's End's formidable Matriarch, just as she was one of the few who'd talk back to the Reach-King to his face. Finally, everyone was in place and Madanach was circling behind Lurbuk.

“Sir, is something supposed to happen now?” Lurbuk asked. The suspense was killing him.

“In a second,” came the response. “I just need to prepare myself.”

Footsteps, the drawing of a sword, a prickling sensation on the back of Lurbuk's neck as he began to realise all was not well, and then pain, screaming agonising pain as something speared into his back and Lurbuk looked down to see the front of that Forsworn sword Madanach had been carrying protruding from his stomach.

“What...” Lurbuk began as he realised too late what ant-y-agar might mean. Liriel had set him up, but he didn't have time to really process the betrayal.

“Hail Sithis,” he heard Madanach murmur and then Mehrunes' Razor slit Lurbuk's throat and he knew no more.

Madanach cleaned the Daedric knife off and passed it back to Liriel, staring down at Lurbuk and still shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Where in the name of all the gods did you find him, Liriel?” he asked, sure he'd never forget that 'singing' for the rest of his life. “He must be the worst singer I've ever heard.”

“Singing?” Keirine cackled. “Brother, if that is singing these days, I have half a mind to apply to the Bards' College myself. They are clearly letting anyone in.”

“He's the worst bard in Skyrim,” Liriel finally admitted. “There were so many people wanting his death, Astrid had to hold a lottery to pick the client.”

“He was terrible!” Cicero cackled, finally able to let the laughter out as he whooped and giggled. “He couldn't sing at all! Humble Cicero is a better singer than that! Cicero would sing for you now except he can't think of anything to rhyme with eagle.”

“Please, no,” Madanach laughed, placing a foot on Lurbuk's remains and wrenching the sword back out, grimacing with the effort. “No more singing today, I've had enough, quite possibly for the rest of my life.” He fell silent, staring at the altar, the mood in the room shifting as they all realised this was it. No going back now, a man had just died for this. Time to finish a legend.

“You do not have to do this, brother,” Keirine said quietly. Eola nodded in agreement.

“We can still go home, Da. Don't worry about the body, me and Cicero'll deal with it...”

“No,” said Madanach softly, eyes scanning the lines of Red Eagle's Rite one last time as the blood dripped off Red Eagle's sword. “We're doing this. For the glory of the Reach!”

“For the glory of the Reach,” came the refrain from the rest of them.

“Ar aglar y Rhan,” Keirine and Eola both intoned in unison in the tongue of the Reach, aunt and niece exchanging proud smiles. Despite only having met the day before for the first time, the two had bonded immediately, Keirine proclaiming that she really liked this one, what had Madanach done with her all these years? Eola had just beamed. Now both were looking keen and eager, proud Reachwomen both, waiting to see their King make history.

Madanach raised the sword, holding it high, closing his eyes as he fell into speech mode.

“Lord Red Eagle, ancient one, first and foremost among Reachmen, heed the call of your people! Still we fight for freedom! Still our blades are dark with blood! Turn your gaze upon us, and grant us your blessing anew!

I renew the ancient covenant: When at last our lands are free, we shall return, your sword of victory in hand. Then arise, O great one, from your honoured tomb! Reclaim your stolen throne! Rule over us, High Lord of the Reach, forever more!”

On the last words, he plunged the sword into the hole in the altar. The stone seemed to part for the sword, closing in around it. As the sword sank into the stone, the room actually shook, the very walls vibrating as at the back of the cave, part of the wall actually shifted, a hidden door sinking into the ground, revealing a passageway beyond. 

Silence as seven people all stared at the inky blackness.

“Bugger me,” Argis whispered. “It worked.”

“I didn't think anything would actually happen,” Eola breathed.

Liriel stepped up to Madanach, taking his hand. He'd not taken his eyes off that doorway and for the first time since she'd known him, he looked genuinely frightened.

“Do you still want to do this?” she whispered. “I wouldn't think any less of you if you didn't. Nor would anyone here.”

Madanach just turned his head, smiling sadly at her.

“How can I call myself king if I don't?” he said. Then he squeezed her hand. “All the same, my Dragon-Queen, I'm glad you're here.” He leaned forward and kissed her once on the lips, forehead resting against hers, enjoying the last few seconds of guaranteed happiness before it all went south. Then, taking his axe in one hand and his queen in the other, he led his sister, children, son-in-law and bodyguard into the darkness beyond.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The tunnel was short in the end, leading into a wider chamber that didn't actually look dissimilar to the many barrows Liriel had been in before. Braziers flickered into life as fresh air rushed in and old magic activated, illuminating the room. It was quiet. No sign of Red Eagle anywhere. Just a large pile of stones at the far end, and three like it down each wall. 

“Cairns,” Madanach explained. “In days past, we'd lay our dead out and place stones over them to keep beasts off. Died out a long time ago though. This tomb's an old one.”

Tomb it definitely was. There were goat and elk skulls on sticks, a few crumbling Spriggan heads, all the usual Forsworn trappings except old and dusty. At the back of the room, above the cairn that was presumably Red Eagle's, was the standard Forsworn shrine of elk skull, antlers and ribcage. Nothing about any of it to suggest that it was anything other than an old Forsworn burial ground.

Liriel drew Dawnbreaker and cast her mage armour anyway. She'd been down too many old burial mounds to let her guard down. The moment you let your guard down was usually when the coffins fell open and the Draugr stepped out. 

“Brother,” Keirine growled quietly. “I do not like this. There is old magic here, dark magic. Beware!”

Madanach cast his own mage armour, not really having needed to be told that. When he'd been king the first time, they'd crowned him and Mireen in the old way, and the two of them had enacted a Sacred Marriage, binding them to the land. It had left him able to sense the land's energies, feel its magic, know when it was poisoned or prosperous, happy or weeping. This tomb didn't feel like any of those. It felt like a predatory animal lying in wait. 

“There's some sort of seal in the centre,” Eola noted, peering at it. “Do you think that might be important? Seems to be focusing a lot of the room's magical energies.”

Before anyone could stop him, Cicero had darted forward to go and inspect it, standing over it and peering at it.

“Cicero thinks it's an eagle, sister,” Cicero called back. “Cicero isn't sure what it does though.” He shuffled forward, one foot edging on to the seal itself.

“Cicero, no!” Liriel cried, seeing him do it and realising too late what it was primed to do. The seal started glowing, the room started to shake and then all seven of the cairns exploded at once. Cicero shrieked and flung himself to the ground, the others doing likewise as Argis tackled Eola to the floor while Borkul did the same for Madanach. Liriel had flung up a ward and Keirine was at her side doing likewise as chunks of stone went flying and dust filled the room. Eola was screaming, trying to get out from under Argis's solid bulk as she sobbed Cicero's name out.

The dust slowly settled and to Liriel's relief, Cicero was staggering to his feet, a few scratches on his arms and legs but otherwise fine, if a little dazed. Argis finally let Eola go and she ran to him, hugging him tight.

“Cicero, you stupid man, don't you ever do that again!” she cried. Cicero cuddled her back, clearly a little bit shaken by the experience himself. Liriel finally lowered the ward, surveying the room while Borkul helped Madanach up. For once, Madanach was too shaken to berate his bodyguard for being overprotective.

Then they all heard it, a sound all too familiar to Liriel's ears. Draugr. Or whatever the Reach equivalent was anyway. Seven of them, all stepping out of the cairns, rotting Forsworn gear falling off them as they cast mage armour and advanced. Three women from the left side. Three men from the right. And from the big cairn at the back of the room, one taller than the rest, gleaming golden torc around his neck and baleful blue eyes peering out from beneath the antlered head-dress, fire in one hand and a Forsworn sword in the other, Red Eagle himself, undead and eager to see who'd woken him.

“All right, this was a terrible idea,” Madanach admitted.

“Told you so!” Keirine snapped, casting armour and summoning a Flame Atronach. “One each then. And brother... Red Eagle's yours.”

Cicero and Eola had already independently reached the same conclusion, tackling the two warriors at the far end, while Keirine was busy exchanging fireballs with the centre-left one. Argis and Borkul were chasing down the two nearest them, leaving Liriel with the centre-right... and Madanach in the midst of it all, fingering his axe and watching Red Eagle advance.

_“Who calls me?”_ Red Eagle snarled in the Reach-tongue. Madanach mentally thanked his father for having collected all that remained of the Reach's shattered native tongue – he didn't consider himself fluent, few were these days, but he knew enough.

“Madanach ap Caradach,” he answered back. “Rhan-Brenin.”

_“A challenger,”_ Red Eagle laughed. _“Very well, Reachman. If you want to rule the Reach, prove yourself to me. I killed a Legion. Can you kill me?”_

Well, hadn't Madanach always guessed it would come to this. In a way he welcomed it. It was so much simpler this way.

“ _Faolan, rhaid mi te anfon an-Ia-Mor!_ ” Madanach growled, hoping he'd got that right. Red Eagle got the message, calling a Storm Atronach into life then sending a thunderbolt Madanach's way. Madanach warded it off and sent a fireball back. The battle was on.

~~~~~~~~~

Madanach had no idea how long this had been going on. The others were all busy with their opponents – well, Cicero had killed his, as had Argis, but Argis was now giving Borkul a hand while Cicero was carving into the Atronach Eola's had summoned. That was the thing about fighting Forsworn. They knew all their tactics. They could summon Atronachs too and oh look, one had just raised Cicero's opponent from the dead. Bastards.

Meanwhile Madanach was trading spell for spell with Red Eagle and coming to the uncomfortable realisation that while Madanach was as magic-resistant as any Breton, so was Red Eagle, and Red Eagle still had that damn Briar Heart in his chest, sucking in magicka from the very air and letting him keep casting and casting and... It was all Madanach could do to ward him. He'd got in a few shots but his own magicka was running out and then it really did run out, his ward sputtering out. He raised his axe, gritting his teeth and preparing to dodge like anything until he recovered enough to cast back, but Red Eagle had other ideas. One thunderbolt later and Madanach sprawled on the floor, mage armour wearing off at exactly the wrong moment.

Red Eagle laughed, coming to stand over him, sword raised. Madanach swung at him with his axe but Red Eagle blocked the blow then a swing from that sword – an enchanted sword, same as that other one except stronger, a fire enchantment that was actually worth something and of course Red Eagle had had two, he was a Forsworn, he dual-wielded when his magic failed didn't he?

Madanach should probably have brought a spare sword along too, but he'd got too used over the years to his magic taking care of problems before it got to that stage. To being surrounded by a Forsworn army that also dealt with that sort of thing for him. He'd got soft. He'd got old, and now he was paying the price. 

Red Eagle's sword swung down. Madanach managed to block but the force of the blow snatched the axe from his hand and sent it skittering over the tomb, out of reach. 

Madanach looked up into Red Eagle's undead eyes, a strange sense of calm washing over him as he realised this was it, the end. It had been a good life, all told, and he'd won in the end. He just hoped Eola survived to hold the kingdom for him. Judging from the way she and Cicero had finally taken down their Draugr before turning on Keirine's opponent, he had a feeling she'd do just fine. _M'inyeen, I'm sorry I never got to be a proper father to you. Rule well. Argis, be the father I never could be. Liriel... gods, Liriel, you are my soul mate, I'm so sorry, I'll never forget. Take care of our girls and tell them I love them. Keirine, you were right, I should have let this one go. Kaie... Kaie, get a glass of jenever ready and distract your mother, I'm coming home..._ Giving in, Madanach closed his eyes.

Across the room, Liriel was pouring all her magicka into a wall of fire that was slowly killing her opponent, but even the gifts of the Highborn couldn't keep going forever, not against magic-resistant opponents that were using it to fuel their own spells. But she'd weakened it enough and she was good enough at hand-to-hand to finish it. Unaware of Madanach in trouble behind her, she drew Dawnbreaker and plunged it straight into the heart of the warrior in front of her, finishing it off. 

The bonewalker's corpse blazed and Meridia's gift kicked in. Magic exploded out in all directions, claiming the undead warriors as they shrieked in pain and fled, a couple of them crumbling into dust. Red Eagle himself screamed, dropping his sword as he staggered away, unholy fire burning on dry skin. Madanach opened his eyes and realised he wasn't dead yet. His Dragon-Queen had just granted him a reprieve.

Red Eagle's other sword was right there and Madanach grabbed it, fire flaring in his other hand.

“Faolan,” Madanach laughed, advancing. “Mi doda yn davrha.” _I brought a dragon._ Apparently the language hadn't changed all that much, because Red Eagle did look up at that.

“ _A dragon?_ ” he said, sounding puzzled. “ _But dragons all died out!_ ” Madanach couldn't resist grinning at that. 

“I met one,” Madanach growled, switching back to Tamrielic. “And he called me _worthy!_ ” So saying, he unleashed a torrent of his own fire magic, draining out his magicka while Red Eagle screamed in pain. Madanach's magicka ran out but that didn't matter. Liriel was advancing, Dawnbreaker in hand, and Madanach had a better weapon of his own now.

“Hail Sithis!” he gasped and swept down with Red Eagle's own sword. Clearly he'd not completely lost it because the sword blow took Red Eagle's head off in one go. The light died out of the ghoul's eyes and elsewhere in the room, the remaining undead warriors collapsed into dust, the magic that reanimated them dying with Red Eagle.

Silence. Madanach stared down at the body of his country's first king, barely aware of Liriel coming to embrace him as he hugged her back. He was dimly aware of the others gathering, even Cicero quiet for once as he cuddled Eola.

“Well brother, you killed our country's founder,” Keirine said, clawed foot nudging Red Eagle's remains. “I hope you're pleased with yourself.”

He had indeed. And now it was done, Madanach had to admit he didn't exactly have a plan for where they all went from here. Just Red Eagle's swords... and on the floor, the gleaming red-gold torc that had fallen from Red Eagle's neck when Madanach had beheaded him. Bending down, Madanach picked it up, examining it. Moderately heavy weave, gleaming with two enchantments against magic and poison – no wonder he'd had trouble fighting the man – and twin eagle heads on the ends with small emeralds for eyes. The fabled Torc of Red Eagle, long believed to be lost but actually just buried with him. Just waiting for a worthy Reach-King to wear it. Madanach was fairly certain he wasn't that king, but he was the only king the Reach had. Sheathing the sword in his belt, he placed the torc around his neck and turned to see what Liriel thought. She had her own on and she was grinning back at him.

“We match!” she laughed and Madanach couldn't help but smile.

“Yes we do,” he said, pulling her to him. On his other side, Eola had arrived, clearly envious.

“It's shiny!” she breathed. “Say, when do I get one? I'm the Torc-Brenyeen, I want a torc.”

“Yes, daughter, I will get you a torc,” Madanach sighed. “Pick out something to go on the ends and I will get something commissioned.”

“Sweet!” Eola laughed, turning away to cuddle Cicero and start discussing what this fancy torc was going to look like. Healing potions were passed round, Restoration magic was cast, and Argis and Borkul hauled the bodies into a neat row, arms folded peacefully in death. Everybody stood back, waiting for Madanach to perform one last duty.

“In case any of you were in any doubt,” he said, indicated the bodies that hadn't been turned into ash piles, “this is why we now cremate our dead. And speaking of which... I didn't know Faolan personally. But he fought well and nearly had me – would have done if I'd not had the foresight to bring the Dragon-Queen and that undead-destroying sword of hers. And that's what makes the difference between us. Faolan was the better warrior, maybe the better man. But my friends, my family, he _lost._ He lost everything in the end. And here we are, still alive and the victors, not just today but for the future too. We got our land back, and we did it with our own skills and talents and the grace of the old gods. We honour Red Eagle, but we did what he never could, and that means we've got nothing to prove. So today we take his legacy and I'll bear his swords and wear his torc in his memory and fly his banners in my city. But don't put your faith in legends of dead heroes. We are the living survivors and we will write our own legends. That is what we've learnt today. And so we commend Red Eagle and his guards to the fire and their souls to the Void. Go, Faolan. Go rejoin the Dance. We'll take it from here.” He stepped back and motioned for Keirine to do the rest.

“From the Void we came, to the Void we return,” she intoned, clawed hands raised high. “Dance in starlight, Faolan and your blood-siblings.” She brought her hands slicing down and power blazed up, unholy fire ripping through the corpses and reducing them to a fine ash before their very eyes. Madanach watched, Liriel on his arm, his daughter watching with that usual cryptic smile of hers as she rested her head on Cicero's shoulder and the little lunatic was quiet for once, just stroking her face and smiling gently at her, and when he looked like that you could almost forget for a second that he was not only insane but a murdering little fiend with it. Argis looked on, seeming satisfied with a battle well-fought albeit with a sombre look in his eyes that seemed to say he was glad it was all over finally. Keirine was watching him over the fire, smiling at him as if to say 'don't worry, the Reach is safe – when the old ways pass for good, your line will be there to adopt the new'. Madanach wasn't sure he could contemplate the death of a culture quite that happily but if he could get what he could documented for posterity, he'd be content with knowing he tried.

Borkul on the other hand just looked bored. 

“We done now, boss?” the Orc asked, looking quite ready to get out of here and find some booze and a few pretty young Forsworn girls to brag to. Madanach couldn't exactly fault him there. 

“We're done,” said Madanach, keen to get back out under the stars. He was getting used to having the sky above him again. It didn't seem like the gods peeling the roof of the world off any more. Ever since Kaie died, it had just felt like home, like his ancestors and loved ones were up there waiting for him, waiting to welcome him when his time came. Until then, he'd live like they'd want him to – and they'd want him to be king. He took Liriel's hand in his, turning to lead them out. “Come on. Let's go be royalty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you are, an epic send-off to round things off with. Next chapter is the last, in which it's finally time for Madanach to make it all official and actually marry his Dragon-Queen.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight months after the events at Rebel's Cairn, the Reach is at peace and the Dragonborn's life is utterly untroubled. All she's got to worry about now is her forthcoming wedding...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it. The last chapter. A cute, fluffy and romantic one to pull it all together. I hope you enjoy it. Warnings for some fluffy and romantic wedding night sex towards the end.

_Eight months later_

 

“MAMA!”

 

Liriel opened her eyes as her girls pounced on her. She'd not been asleep. Dear gods, how was she supposed to have gone to sleep. She'd lain awake in her bed at Vlindrel Hall, tossing and turning, wondering if she'd done the right thing. If she should have told her parents. They'd never have come but... too late now.

 

_It's not too late, Liriel. You don't have to do this. Tell him you're sorry and go back to Alinor, marry an Altmer._

 

“Hello darlings,” Liriel whispered as Sissel bounced on the bed and Lucia curled up next to her. It was far too late and she knew it. She could never leave her girls, and they'd be heartbroken if she told them they didn't have a father any more.

 

“Mama, Mama, it's today, it's today!” Sissel squealed. “Can we put our dresses on now, can we?”

 

“Have you had breakfast yet?” Liriel asked, all too familiar with what Sissel's clothes usually looked like after she'd eaten. Both girls nodded.

 

“Uncle Cicero made us pancakes!” Lucia laughed. “He tossed them in the air and caught them in the pan! Apart from the two he dropped.”

 

“CICERO DIDN'T DROP ANY!” came the outraged shriek from the kitchen, accompanied by Jordis' laughter. “CICERO NEVER DROPS PANCAKES!”

 

“I'm sure you didn't,” Liriel laughed, finally deciding to get up. She should at least try and eat something, even though her stomach felt nervous and unsettled and she wasn't sure she'd be able to keep much down. Was it normal to feel quite this terrified? She had no idea, and the little voice in her mind screaming _it's too soon, too soon, we need a decade to make sure we won't hate each other_ would not shut up.

 

But Madanach didn't have a decade to wait. So here she was, getting married. She wondered how humans managed it.

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

“Da? DA!”

 

Madanach stared into the mirror, fresh from his usual shower in the master bedroom's built-in waterfall, towel around his waist but otherwise not dressed yet. No matter how much he willed it otherwise, he was definitely still an ageing Breton warlord and not a handsome young Altmer wizard. What in the name of all the gods was he thinking??

 

“DA! OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!”

 

And if Eola didn't stop hassling him, he'd... he didn't know what but she wouldn't like it. Even if she was his beloved heir to the throne and he couldn't throttle her until she'd at least produced grandchildren.

 

“IT IS OPEN!” he shouted back. The door finally opened as Eola swanned in, already clad in a sleeveless low-cut dress possibly more suited to a tavern than her father's wedding and her beloved white-gold wolf's head torc.

 

“You're up!” she laughed. “But not dressed – Da, you're not dressed! You need to get dressed, do I have to get Nepos in here?”

 

“NO!” Madanach gasped, really not in the mood for dealing with his steward right now. “Er. No. No, I'm sure he's very busy dealing with the cooks and the guests and everything else. We don't need to bother Nepos.”

 

“Good, then you'll be fine getting dressed on your own, won't you?” said Eola, grinning. “Or do I need to stand over you and make sure of it?”

 

“Absolutely not, I am a grown man and do not need your help looking after myself,” Madanach growled. “I just need a little bit of peace in my own bedroom, without my children bothering me.”

 

“Yeah, about that,” Eola said pointedly. “Ceremony's at noon. It's half ten now and it is going to take an hour to get to the Lover Stone. Bride's allowed to be late. Groom keeps the bride waiting and people think he's jilted her. Have you even eaten yet?”

 

“Not hungry,” Madanach said, entirely truthfully. “Listen, Eola... oh what now?”

 

“Da?” Now that was Argis, and the man was in his thirties, did he need to sound quite that plaintive? Then Madanach heard the sound of a baby's wail and all petulance flew out of his head.

 

“Is that my little granddaughter you have there?” he asked, face lighting up as Argis walked in, the future High Queen of Skyrim nestled in his arms. Said future High Queen was currently fussing in the arms of her haggard father who looked like he'd been up half the night.

 

“She won't sleep,” Argis said, staring wildly at his father, silently imploring him for aid. “Why won't she sleep? She's fine when Elisif and I hold her but as soon as we put her down... Da, why?”

 

Quite why Argis expected him to magically know what his granddaughter was thinking, Madanach had no idea, but he'd do his best. He held his arms out and Argis gratefully decanted little Lirela ap Elisif into Madanach's hands.

 

A whole month it had been since the courier arrived bringing the news that High Queen Elisif had been safely delivered of a healthy little girl, and Madanach had left for Solitude immediately for the naming ceremony, Liriel at his side and their girls with them in the carriage. When he'd got to the Blue Palace and Argis had brought her out, eyes shining as he babbled on about how gorgeous she was and so tiny, Madanach had held her in his arms, staring wordlessly at the tiny child that was somehow his first grandchild. Liriel had stared at her, whispering she didn't know people could be that _small_. Then the girls had wanted to see and oohed and aahed over her, and then Argis had said he and Elisif wanted to call her Lirela, was that all right, and then Liriel had been lost for words too, just nodding tearfully and that was two of them, a Dragonborn and a King, grinning stupidly at each other with tears in their eyes.

 

Now Argis and Elisif were both here, looking exhausted and worn out but at the same time constantly cooing over little Lirela, neither seemingly able to get their heads around the idea they'd made a person. It was rather strange when you thought about it. All this time and there'd been no Lirela anywhere and now here she was, alive and well and gurgling up at her grandfather.

 

“Hello there, little one,” he murmured at her, bright blue eyes gazing up at him as the wailing subsided and she looked solemnly at him. “You recognise me, don't you, cariad? It's your granda, isn't it? Did you miss me? Is that why you were crying, hmm?”

 

“By the gods,” he heard Eola mutter. “Da, you were meant to be getting dressed?”

 

“In a second,” said Madanach, refusing to be rushed. When it came to his beautiful granddaughter, the rest of the world could wait. “Yeah, you just wanted a cuddle, didn't you? Didn't want to be left alone, did you? And why should you be, you're too adorable to ignore.” He took a proper look at Argis and tutted. “Son, is that steel armour you're wearing?”

 

“Yes?” said Argis, looking a bit confused. Bless the boy, you could tell he'd not been around babies much.

 

“Thought as much. Your inyeen here wants body heat and warmth, she'll get none of it through that. Get changed into something softer and get a sling off the servants, I had some put by for you. Carry her next to you, take it in turns with Elisif, she'll sleep just fine.”

 

“You think?” Argis asked hopefully.

 

“Ten forty-five!” Eola hissed, having inherited all her maternal instincts from her own mother. Madanach made a mental note to talk seriously with her about letting him raise any children she had. He loved Eola, he really did, but honestly someone whose immediate reaction to a new niece had been to glance at her, note that she was cute and then head off in search of something more interesting probably wasn't cut out for childrearing. Not to mention when she did hold Lirela, she kept cheerfully talking about all the many ways to cook and eat the child. He was sure it was just her twisted sense of humour but even so, there were limits.

 

“I think so,” Madanach said, handing her back over. “Honestly, I think she just gets bored lying down, unable to see all the interesting things going on. If she can see what's out there, she'll probably be fine. Eola was exactly the same. Constantly in everything.” And very little had changed since, to be honest. Huffing, Eola got up, taking the point.

 

“Ten fifty,” she announced tersely. “Now get dressed. We will be _late._ ”

 

“We will not be late,” Madanach sighed, ushering his children out. “We will be fine. Liriel is wrangling two young children and Cicero with just a housecarl to help. Believe me, she will not get there before us.”

 

Argis and Eola both left him to it. Madanach let out a sigh of relief as he reached for his razor. Just the ceremony itself now. Just get through the day and then he could finally take Liriel to bed as his wife. His queen. Officially. Properly. He'd already granted her citizenship of the Reach a few days before and she'd been made a citizen of the Empire while they'd been in Solitude. A child of Alinor now part of Talos's Empire and soon one of its queens too.

 

He was marrying Liriel. Gorgeous, beautiful, amazing, passionate Liriel. _She'll change her mind. She won't be there. She'll lose her nerve and run away. She won't be able to face marrying a human, much less an old man, even if he is king._ He'd seen it in her eyes, the hesitancy whenever the wedding was mentioned, sadness in her eyes when she didn't think he was looking. A decent man would have let her go months ago, sent her away to find an Altmer to love. But Madanach was not a decent man and he'd spent twenty years in prison unhappy and lonely. He was never giving her up if he could help it. He just wished he didn't feel like he was damning her to misery in the process.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Noon, more or less. The great and good of Skyrim were gathered around the Lover Stone, taking seats on the benches set up to watch the ceremony. There was the High Queen of Skyrim and her husband, cooing over her new baby in its embroidered Forsworn-made sling and showing it off to everyone, wild-eyed and amazed by its every move. There was General Rikke and a few Legionnaires, including Captain Hadvar who'd apparently rescued the Dragonborn from the burning wreck of Helgen. There was the eclectic little group in black and red who claimed to be some sort of mercenary group Liriel worked with. There were a few shady-looking black-clad types – one red-haired Nord, a blonde Imperial with a bad attitude and a shaven-headed Breton who would later be making off with the valuables of certain wealthy guests not part of the Reach royal family. There were the Black-Briars of Riften – Maven, Hemming and Ingun anyway, Sibbi was still in Riften prison after Maven had found out he'd sold one of her prize horses. There was Jarl Balgruuf and his housecarl Irileth, and his steward Proventus and his daughter Adrienne with her husband. There were various mages from the College of Winterhold – their Master Wizard, their Destruction mistress, their Illusion master and three of their apprentices, all busy listening to Forsworn tales of Reach magic in awe. There was a Dunmer priestess of Azura chatting to a Dunmer mercenary from Whiterun and from their body language, it was becoming blatantly obvious that the Shrine of Azura might just remain untended for a while longer. There was Brina Merilis of Dawnstar and her housecarl, and Jarl Idgrod of Hjaalmarch who was busy cackling away with King Madanach's sister and if said sister was fairly dripping with Illusion magic, no one commented. Idgrod had brought her husband and children too, and young Joric was apparently fascinated by Lady Keirine.

 

“You're really different, aren't you?” he whispered. “You see things too, don't you?”

 

“I see lots of things, young one,” Keirine replied, looking for all the world like a sweet old lady with silver hair and blue eyes like her brother.

 

“Did it hurt?” Joric whispered. “Getting the claws and feathers, I mean.”

 

Keirine raised a finger to her lips. “No, only a little and not for long. But do not speak of such things here, Nordling. This is not for the eyes and ears of _ortallanai,_ outsiders.”

 

“I get it,” Joric nodded. “Everyone in Morthal thinks I'm weird too. Do you think I could move to the Reach one day? Everyone here seems to get it.”

 

“One day, Nordling,” Keirine said, grinning. “One day.”

 

There was half of Markarth here for the party, and a great many Forsworn milling around. There was Reach-Princess Eola cheerfully mingling and herding people into place, there was Erandur the priest getting ready to officiate, and lastly, there was the groom himself, waiting nervously at the front, fretting at his steward.

 

“She's not coming,” Madanach muttered to Nepos. “She's changed her mind, I know it. Of course she has, why in the name of Magnus would she marry me?”

 

“Madanach,” Nepos sighed. “She loves you. She got you your kingdom back, found Eola precisely so you could marry for love not heirs, you adopted her children, of course she's marrying you.”

 

“Then why isn't she _here??_ ” Madanach growled, tearing his hair out. “We weren't exactly on time – well you try getting a month-old child and her sleep-deprived parents out the door to any kind of schedule. Where. Is. Liriel?”

 

“Madanach. She'll be here,” said Nepos, patting his hand. Madanach nodded pensively, trying not to imagine Liriel quietly fleeing back to Alinor in a panic or worse, something having happened on the road here, oh gods should he send guards back to Markarth to look for her?

 

He needn't have worried. In the distance came the all-too familiar sound of Cicero giggling and singing then being hushed. Madanach got up, hardly daring to look, glancing up at Erandur who smiled and motioned for quiet. Silence, nothing but the breeze and Madanach wanted to look, wanted to see her, touch her, hold her and never let her go.

 

He didn't look. He stayed still, back to her, waiting, eyes closed until he felt her there, the gentle touch of her hand on his, then letting go again. Finally he dared to open his eyes.

 

She was standing at his side, smiling nervously, red hair swept back and a circlet on her brow, beautiful flowing blue wedding gown that was clipped with gold sea-shell clips at the shoulder, fell in silken folds around her chest then tied at the waist with a gold belt and hanging loose around her perfect legs. Her torc was round her neck, a small bouquet of flowers in her hands and her flawless skin was gleaming in the sunlight. Madanach couldn't breathe. She was stunning, perfect, beautiful, a goddess in human form and she was marrying him?? What was he next to her? Just an old man who'd spent his life murdering his way to power and who in no way deserved to have a powerful, beautiful woman agreeing to marry him.

 

Not that he'd ever even consider sending her away. But he'd forgive her eventually if she did change her mind.

 

“You made it,” he murmured, hoping the relief wasn't too obvious. “I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind.”

 

“Never,” Liriel said, smiling. All the same, Madanach could sense the lurking anxiety behind it and it did nothing to allay his own fears. Was he doing the right thing? He didn't know and didn't care, all he knew was that he couldn't let her go. Not now. Not ever.

 

Erandur called them both together and the ceremony began. There was the usual homily to Mara and her blessings which Madanach barely heard, and then the vows. First the Imperial ones that would make it all legal.

 

“Do you, Madanach ap Caradach, agree to be bound in love to Liriel Dragonborn, now and forever?”

 

Yes, gods yes, he was already bound, as far as he was concerned this was just making it clear to the rest of the world that Liriel was his.

 

“I do, now and forever.”

 

Erandur smiled, seeming pleased with that. Then it was Liriel's turn.

 

“Do you, Liriel Dragonborn, agree to be bound in love to Madanach ap Caradach, now and forever?”

 

Silence. Moments ticked by and Madanach risked a glance, suddenly feeling nervous. Liriel was staring at the Lover Stone behind Erandur, breath coming in rapid, shallow bursts and her eyes... she looked terrified. _No no Liriel no, not now, please, don't run away, I love you..._

 

She closed her eyes, shook her shoulders and took a deep breath.

 

“I do, now and forever,” she gasped, cheeks flushing red and then she looked up, seemingly astonished as she met his eyes. She bit her lips, eyes shining and then a tear trickled down one cheek and he realised she was crying.

 

“Liriel, are you alright?” he whispered, alarmed. She nodded, smiling as she dabbed at her eyes.

 

“I'm fine,” she whispered back. “I'm just... overwhelmed.”

 

Madanach squeezed her hand, turning to face her properly. The vow to Mara was done, now the Forsworn vow made to each other. With Mireen, he'd spent most mornings looking at her and wondering what in the Void he'd been thinking. He hoped it'd be different with Liriel. He already felt different. He wanted to make promises to her, wanted to keep them. He hoped she felt the same as she took his hands and Erandur, having been briefed on this bit by Nepos, draped a specially enchanted ribbon around their hands. The ribbon tightened by itself, binding them together while they made their vows. Some said it would burn the hands off anyone who swore a wedding vow falsely but Madanach doubted this. He and Mireen had survived after all.

 

“I, Madanach ap Caradach, do take you, Liriel Dragonborn, as my wife and partner in the Dance, from now until the Void takes me. I swear to walk with you in the sunlight, shelter with you when the rains come, protect you from your enemies and show hospitality to your friends. When night falls, my bed will be your resting place and when the day breaks, I will be the one to greet it with you. In the name of the old gods, this I do swear.”

 

Then it was Liriel's turn and the vow was no different for women. Liriel faced him as she spoke, meeting his eyes without fear now, the Thu'um lacing her voice with power that made him shiver – but not because he was afraid.

 

“I, Liriel Dragonborn, do take you, Madanach ap Caradach, as my husband and partner in the Dance, from now until the Void takes me. I swear to walk with you in the sunlight, shelter with you when the rains come, protect you from your enemies and show hospitality to your friends. When night falls, my bed will be your resting place and when the day breaks, I will be the one to greet it with you. In the name of the old gods, this I do swear.”

 

The ribbon glowed green then red, Anu and Sithis, and then it disappeared, seeming to sink into their hands but the sense of being connected remained. Then there was the ritual exchange of Mara's wedding rings, but Madanach wasn't so bothered about that. The important part of the ceremony was done. They were married. She was his. He'd always been hers. Hadn't he protected her and her children from Astrid? Shown hospitality to Cicero despite no notice and Cicero being Cicero? He'd even offered his bed as a resting place that very first night they met. He'd always wanted her and now it was official. Liriel was his wife and as the rings settled on their fingers and the assembled crowd cheered and let off Destruction magic in the air, Madanach pulled Liriel into his arms and kissed her. This time around, he had a feeling it was going to work out.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The festivities got into full swing after that as the guests gathered round and congratulated the happy couple. Then the young and unmarried gathered round for the traditional throwing of the bouquet, the catcher of which was said to be the next one to get married, an Alinorian custom that Liriel had been delighted to hear the Forsworn shared. So she'd faced away and flung the flowers over her shoulder, a little bouquet of nightshade and juniper, and there'd been the usual scrambling and jostling and then...

 

“CAUGHT IT!” came the demented howl of delight that could only be one person. “SISTER, SISTER, DID YOU SEE?”

 

“We all saw,” Eola remarked, rolling her eyes. “Was it strictly necessary to elbow Young Idgrod in the cheek to get to it?”

 

Liriel turned around to see Idgrod the Younger being tended to by Aranea Ienith who pronounced the girl healed as Cicero apologised to her, the wedding bouquet clutched in his hands. Then, having been assured that the young Nord was going to be fine, Cicero ran back to Eola, suddenly looking a bit hesitant. Then without a word, he dropped to his knees and offered the flowers in one hand, and with the other, fished in his pocket and held up a little ring-box which turned out to contain a gold diamond ring. It was one Liriel had found in a tomb a couple of months back and Cicero had pouted and whined and fawned until she'd given in and said he could have it. Now she realised why.

 

“Sweetling,” Cicero said nervously but meeting Eola's eyes with not a flinch. “Sweetling, Cicero loves you. It has been six months, more than that, so your father cannot set Cicero on fire for asking now. Please, my lovely? Please marry sweet Cicero?”

 

Eola stared back, hand to her mouth, clearly not having expected this. Her first reaction was not to answer but to look to her father.

 

Madanach was watching, arms folded and grim expression as he glared at Cicero, kneeling on the ground and dressed in a High Rock Breton style frock coat, cravat and breeches with boots, hair tied back with a black ribbon and not a piece of motley in sight. Cicero the Man was clearly not quite as dead as everyone had thought. After a long moment, Madanach sighed and nodded.

 

Eola's face lit up and she turned back to Cicero, tears glistening in her eyes as she nodded assent, reaching out and taking first the flowers then holding her left hand out for the ring. Cicero took it from the box and slid it on to her finger before staggering to his feet and holding out his arms. Eola went into them without hesitation and the two kissed as the crowd erupted in yet more cheers.

 

“No wedding until the Treasury's recovered from this one!” Madanach said firmly, but Cicero and Eola didn't seem to care. They were too busy holding each other, Eola clinging tearfully on to him and Cicero crooning into her ear about how he'd never let her go hungry again but would feed her and tend to her and make sure her enemies died horribly.

 

“You're OK with them marrying then?” Liriel whispered in Madanach's ear. He just shrugged, putting an arm around her.

 

“He's clearly keen, she needs to marry someone and I have a feeling anyone else I found for her would probably end up getting mysteriously stabbed in the night,” said Madanach, leaving them to it and leading them off to where the tables for the wedding feast had been set up. “Come on wife, let's leave the young people to it. We have a party to attend.”

 

And so they'd sat together at the high table, everyone else taking seats at lower tables for a free meal courtesy of the Reach-King, and Liriel had her children on her left with Jordis on their other side, both wanting to see the ring and then cuddling her and Madanach in turn. Meanwhile Madanach had his children and their spouses on his right, and while Cicero and Eola were mostly wrapped up in each other, Argis stopped by to congratulate them both and then chatted to the girls while Elisif turned up with Lirela and she and Madanach promptly started talking about babies. It was very odd, Liriel hadn't ever thought Elisif and Madanach would have anything in common or even like each other, but it turned out they got on quite well, especially with a baby to coo over. And that was sad, a reminder of what she could never give him.

 

“We'll never have our own, will we,” she said softly as Elisif carried Lirela off to feed her. “I'm sorry, Madanach.”

 

He turned round, surprised she'd even think that. “Why? Don't worry about me, I've got one grandchild to fuss over and Elisif's already saying she wants another one, and I imagine Eola will do her duty to the Reach and have one at some point. Which I also have a feeling I will end up raising, so don't you worry, Liriel. I am quite content with the children I have.” His face softened a little as he saw the shadows in her eyes and he took her hand. “Did you want one, cariad? I know we talked about it and agreed not to, but if you really wanted one, I'd do it, you know I would.”

 

Liriel knew and he'd be a loving and devoted father, she knew that. But it wouldn't be fair on the child to be fated to lose that father so young.

 

“It's fine,” Liriel whispered. “It's just a bit sad, that's all.” She squeezed his hand and shifted closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “But I've got you and that's the important thing, right?”

 

Madanach laughed, pulling her into his arms as he rested his head against her forehead.

 

“You have me,” he promised and Liriel closed her eyes as he kissed her again, feeling her sadness abate. She just married a man she loved in the sacred rite of Mara, of course she'd done the right thing. She could even feel the connection from the Forsworn rite, a knowing deep in her bones of where he was and what he was feeling. Right now, he was feeling pleased and passionate and happy and possessive and more than a little aroused... and grateful. Profoundly, deeply grateful and awed, and when she remembered how he'd come across when she'd first met him, the change couldn't be more stark. So maybe she wouldn't have him forever. To have had him at all was a blessing, and all this besides... it was nothing more than a miracle.

 

So Liriel held his hand and smiled and drank toasts with everyone else and ate her fill and was presented with wedding gifts as was the custom, and accepted them graciously on behalf of them both, even though she didn't need half this stuff and would probably end up gifting it on to those less fortunate.

 

And so the afternoon wore on, with no rain or mist in sight, and then the sun set and the older and more distinguished guests took their leave, the banquet tables were taken down and cleared, Jordis took the girls home, and Argis and Elisif took little Lirela back to Markarth. The Forsworn folk band that had been doing gentle background tunes all afternoon started up something a bit more raucous and the traditional bale-fires were lit.

 

“For the fire dancing,” Madanach explained. “Normally the bride and groom would be the first to leap them for fertility and good fortune but I am opting out of this one on the grounds I already have children. And because I'm too old for this sort of thing. So seeing as my daughter just got engaged, she and her lunatic consort can lead off instead.”

 

Cicero had already squealed, swept Eola in his arms and sprinted towards the nearest fire, leaping over it in style before landing like a cat and depositing Eola, who'd clung on to him throughout.

 

“Jenever, get me jenever,” Eola gasped, flagging down a passing Forsworn with a drinks tray. “Sithis, I'm never doing that again.”

 

“You'll have to at your own wedding!” Borkul called from where he was cuddling two giggling young Reach girls. Eola just knocked back her jenever shot in one and cuddled up to Cicero, shivering. He just giggled, kissing her cheek.

 

“Don't worry, sweetling, Cicero would never drop you. He never drops anything he cares about.”

 

Eola nestled closer, relaxing as the drink took hold and the festivities started in earnest. She'd never had anyone see her as she was and want more before. They'd usually run screaming or wanted sex but no more or not been interested in that at all, just the meat. Not Cicero. He'd not only accepted it, he positively loved helping her indulge. She was definitely keeping this one.

 

While Eola and Cicero snuggled, Liriel had been very surprised to find a large hay pile covered with furs and pillows set up for her and Madanach, surrounded by a structure a bit like a Forsworn tent but open to the sky.

 

“What...” she began, but it was obvious what it was, especially when Madanach indicated for her to go in.

 

“Normally bride and groom don't retire to this until late at night, but as I said, I am old and have been socialising all day. Now what I mostly want is to retire to bed with my lovely wife while my daughter takes care of the festivities for me.”

 

Drunken cheering from outside and Liriel lay back on the bed as Madanach closed the tent flaps behind him and lay down alongside her, torc and circlet placed to one side as Madanach slipped out of his finery and under the furs, reaching for Liriel with a smile on his face as he undid the clasps on her dress. Liriel shivered as the cloth fell away but the furs were soft and her new husband's arms were warm, and soon she was comfortably naked, looking up at the stars.

 

“You really meant it when you said everything important in a Reachman's life happens under the open sky.”

 

“Of course,” he murmured, nuzzling at her ear. “And marrying you is one of the most important things I'll ever do, my Dragon-Queen.”

 

Once again, Liriel could feel it, that magical connection between them communicating the truth of the feelings and she wondered just how deep and how long that magical connection was going to last. So she asked him.

 

“Last?” Madanach laughed. “It doesn't wear off, macreena. It's the Forsworn Bond of Matrimony, a constant awareness of where your spouse is, or what direction they're in anyway, and what's going on in their mind – not actual thoughts, I might add, just emotions. It's a remnant of the days when a lot of marriages were arranged and it was a way to help spouses who wouldn't have known each other very well work together and take care of each other. We kept the custom on because when two people love each other and have this in place, the result is... mindblowing.”

 

“The sex is that good?” Liriel asked, grinning. Madanach shot her a sly grin at that.

 

“Oh absolutely, some of the best sex I ever had was with Mireen in the early days of our marriage. But it's more than that, especially when you're both happy, it's like a spiral of emotions feeding into each other, more potent than any drug. But when things go bad or you have two people who don't care, or one person turns out to be a vicious sociopath... it can be horrific.” He didn't say any more, falling silent, and Liriel didn't need the empathy bond to tell her he was speaking from experience. She shifted closer, nestling against him, hoping he could feel that she loved him, wouldn't hurt him, would take care of him. And to her surprise, she felt an answering surge of emotion from him as he hugged her back, the gratitude again, the thankfulness and the love, so much love and Liriel was crying again, sobbing on Madanach's chest as he held her, tears in his own eyes. She'd never felt so loved and connected to anyone before and as she thought it, she realised he could feel something of that too and that just set her off even more.

 

“I love you,” she sobbed. “Gods, I love you.”

 

“I love you too,” she heard him whisper, voice nearly drowned out by the singing and revelry outside but it didn't matter. They didn't need words, not now. Madanach was kissing her and she was lying back, moaning as she felt him touch her, hands passing over her breasts then down her stomach and then Madanach was kissing his way across her cheek before going straight for the ear, teeth nipping at the edges as he nuzzled the point and Liriel could feel it, feel everything. She could feel the love and adoration pouring out of him, and while he'd explained it to her once, that the Reachmen were descended from elves and occasionally elven features like pointed ears and faces would crop up and that these were considered signs of great beauty, so for an actual elf to turn up, that was a prize indeed – Reach natives adored elves. The fascination he had with her ears was all part of it, it was a symbol of everything she represented, magic, elvishness, being Madanach's type and conforming to Forsworn ideals of attractiveness and now she got it, now she could feel it, feel a human wanting her and desiring her precisely because she was an elf and not treating her with suspicion or hostility. She'd never been so aroused in her life and as she opened her legs, she thought to herself _Mother, you were wrong, you have never known what it is to be loved until you've had a human staring at you like you're a goddess._

 

“Madanach?” she whispered. “Madanach, please, can you touch me, please, I really want you inside me...”

 

Low moan from him that nearly had her coming right there, and he lay on top of her, one hand pinning her shoulder down while the other was between her legs, fingers sliding in and out of her, then he stopped, reaching for her leg and flinging it over his shoulder then driving in to her hard, fucking her deep, eyes never leaving hers as he pinned her upper arms down, half-smile on his face as he moved inside her. Liriel cried out, closing her eyes and just revelling in the feelings she was picking up from him, want and desire and the sense that although he thought she was a beautiful Altmer goddess, he also got off on taking, owning and using said goddess like a common whore and that turned her on even more. _Yes, yes, use me, fuck me harder, I'm all yours..._

 

“Madanach,” she cried, “Madanach, yes, please, yes, more!” and that was arousing him even more, the sound of her crying his name out so she did it again, loving this, loving the way she instinctively knew now what he wanted and what he wanted was to see a goddess fall apart because of him. Which was very convenient considering what she liked was seeing a cunning and calculating Reach-King with his emotions unleashed for once, the outer layers dropped and the vulnerability on show, and by the Eight, he was leaning in now, thrusting harder, whispering her name over and over again, a litany of _“Liriel, yes, want you, yes, mine, mine, you're mine, have to – need you, gods Liriel, yes...”_

 

Liriel cried out as she came, clenching down around him, knowing she was lost, ruined forever for anyone else – she'd known this for months but now it crystallised into certainty as she realised that after this, after being fucked hard and touched all over by someone whose very emotions were laid bare to her now, as hers were to him, she could never go back to just an ordinary lover, not now. Madanach, Madanach, she wanted Madanach, and as he came too, setting her a-tingle via the empathy bond, she knew she'd made the right choice. Maybe he would die all too soon and leave her lonely, but the Dance didn't end. She'd wait twenty years, nothing to an Altmer – and then she'd start looking for another Forsworn, a young one this time, one who might be Madanach reborn perhaps, and maybe, just maybe, she'd have something like this again. In the mean time, she'd make the most of him while she had him.

 

He cleaned her up in silence, before pulling the furs over them both and snuggling in with her.

 

“My wife,” he whispered, sounding enthralled and Liriel realised at least some of what she'd been thinking he must have picked up on. “You're my wife. I married you.”

 

“You did,” Liriel whispered. “I'm your wife and you're my husband.”

 

“I know,” Madanach breathed. “I can't even believe... I can't believe you said yes and didn't run away.”

 

It had actually been a close thing and it had taken all her strength to finally do it, finally say yes and know in her heart her parents would never forgive her if they found out – and she had no doubt the Thalmor would tell them before long. Alinor was closed to her forever, she knew that now and she'd miss it horribly... but the Reach with its Aldmeri heritage felt more like home than anywhere she'd been since she left, and with the added bonus that these days it felt freer, happier than Alinor ever had. Even when Madanach died, she had a feeling this place would always be home.

 

“I'm not going anywhere,” Liriel said gently, nestling into his arms. “You've got me for good.”

 

“Until your next big adventure anyway,” Madanach murmured and that admittedly was true. She wouldn't be always in Markarth. But thanks to the empathy bond, she'd still be able to feel his presence no matter where she went.

 

“Still be yours no matter where I go,” she whispered sleepily and Madanach smiled at that as he held her. Just as he'd always be hers, a little piece of him living on in her mind long after he died.

 

Madanach drifted off to sleep in her arms, smile on his face as she held him. Liriel lay awake a bit longer, staring up at the stars. Home to the Reachman afterlife, the Void of Sithis, and to her own Aedra ancestors. She had no idea what they were thinking of her right now. Judging her for marrying a human? Or proud of her for following her heart? She didn't know. Maybe both. But what she did know was that it didn't matter any more. She was happy and loved and if her ancestors had a problem with that, her ancestors perhaps weren't as deserving of her love and respect as she'd always believed.

 

She closed her eyes, preparing to let sleep claim her. Tomorrow she'd go back to Markarth, see her girls again, be Queen of the Reach alongside her new husband. But tonight she was just his wife, just a woman in bed with a man who loved her. And Liriel Dragonborn regretted not a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end! Thank you to everyone who has read, enjoyed and left comments, I hope the end was a satisfying one. Especially thank you to the OP on SKM who prompted for Forsworn lore and lots of it. I hope this satisfied on that score - ever since writing With A Dragonborn Like This, I wished I could have done a bit more with the Forsworn in that and given Madanach more page time - there was an awful lot of Forsworn intrigue I wanted to include and never could. But now, thanks to this fic, I have been able to do just that! Not to mention that I couldn't have done as good a job on this one had I not first written WADLT.
> 
> Writing this story was fuelled by the music of Delain, in particular 'We Are The Others' as a Forsworn anthem, and 'Electricity' as a song for Liriel and Madanach. Highly recommended as tunes.


End file.
